Mercy
by Jennifer N
Summary: CD Super Challenge/Alternate Season Finale. If you're a Jack worshipper, a Will basher, a Vaughn/Syd shipper, a Weiss fanatic, and/or firmly believe that Francie and Dixon deserve storylines, this is a must-read.
1. A/N

Title: Mercy  
  
Authors: Becky (anonyme@lisco.com) and Jennifer N (jennifer_n97@hotmail.com)  
  
Distribution: Credit Dauphine, Alias FanFiction List, SD-1 Boards, and Kara's web site. Anyone else, please ask first (we'll probably say yes).  
  
Feedback: Please? Pretty please??? And please send it to both of us???  
  
Disclaimer: We don't own Alias or any of the many products you see in this fic. Basically, the only thing we own is the character of Zoe, who you will meet shortly. g  
  
Summary: CD Super Challenge/Alternate Season Finale. If you're a Jack worshipper, a Will basher, a Vaughn/Syd shipper, a Weiss fanatic, and/or firmly believe that Francie and Dixon deserve storylines, this is a must- read.  
  
Rating: R  
  
Classification: Drama/Angst  
  
Spoilers: anything up to and including "Rendezvous"  
  
A/N: Thanks to AOL Instant Messenger wg; our fabulous betas--Casey, Karen, Kara, and Steph; and Bill Gates and Steve Jobs for putting a date/time function on the computer and saving us from figuring out time zones at 3 a.m. during one of our monster IM sessions (don't ask--they're a fic by themselves!).  
  
Becky thanks Jen for playing along with this insanity, and Jen thanks Becky for inviting her along for the ride. g 


	2. Part 1

"Damn it!"  Francie swore as she reached for the phone.  She'd promised herself she wasn't going to do this, but it was almost 11 o'clock, Will was almost an hour late, and he hadn't called.  So now she was calling him.  She'd been looking forward to going out tonight ever since Wednesday when Will had asked her about checking out a new club over the weekend.

As she listened to the incessant ringing, she imagined how many different ways she could get even with him.  Smiling at the thought, she was jarred back to reality when Will's voice came booming out of the receiver.  

"Hey, this is Will.  Please leave a message."

"Leave a message.  Damn straight I'll leave a message," Francie muttered as she waited for the beep.  When it finally sounded, she spoke again.  "Will, this is Francie.  You remember me, right?  I'm the one you were supposed to go to a club with tonight.  It's now 11 and you aren't here.  Call me.  And you'd better have a damn good reason for standing me up."

Slamming the phone down made her feel marginally better, but only for a moment.  Then she went back to stewing over how pathetic her life was that she was sitting at home on a Saturday night when she was supposed to be out with a friend.  Deciding this situation need to be resolved with a glass of wine, she went to the kitchen and poured a glass, returning to the living room with the bottle and glass in hand.  

She settled back on the couch and turned on the tv, hoping to find something that would amuse her until Will finally decided to show.  Forty-five minutes and two rather large servings of wine later, she turned it off.  She stood, stretching, before she walked slowly to the door.  Opening it, she stared out at the quiet street. 

Going back inside after a few minutes, she went to the phone, trying his home again before calling his cell.  When it went straight to voicemail, she really began to worry.  Something had to be wrong.  He just wasn't the type of person who didn't show up.  As a last ditch attempt to find him, she called the paper.

************

Abby dragged herself back to her desk.  The party had been a little more raucous than she'd anticipated and she was feeling it already.  Whoever said the society columnists had it easy had never been to a party thrown by a celebrity.

_Thank God, she was off until Thursday, she thought as she situated herself at her desk, booted up the computer, and idly checked her messages while she waited.  When she finally saw the desktop appear on her monitor, she opened up the file she needed and began to type her column.  _

She liked coming in late at night to do her columns.  She liked the peace and quiet.  She liked being left to herself to do her work her way.  There was always the chance that some copy editor would call her for clarification on something, but that didn't happen too often.  

She was halfway through her report when she realized the phone was ringing.  She toyed with not picking it up for a moment, but then decided that if she didn't, whoever it was would just keep calling back.

"_Los Angeles__ Register.  This is Abby, how may I help you?"_

"Will Tippin's desk please."

"I'm sorry, Will's not here.  Is there something I might be able to help you with?"  Abby heard the woman's frustrated sigh and wondered what stupid thing Will had done now.  

"Um, yeah, maybe.  My name is Francie Calfo.  I'm a friend of Will's.  We were supposed to do something, and he just hasn't shown up.  It's not like him, and so I thought that maybe he might be there redoing a story or something."

"Well, he's not here now, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been here.  I just got in to file my column, so it's possible that he was here.  And knowing Will, it's also possible that he'll be back.  Do you want to leave a number where he can reach you if he does?"

"No, he already has the number.  Just please have him call Francie if you see him, ok?"

"Sure thing," Abby replied distantly as she continued to write up her article.  "Is there anything else that I might be able to help with?"

"No.  Just have Will call me if you see him.  Thanks."

Abby jotted Francie's message on a post-it and put it aside for the moment.  When she went home, she'd put it on his computer.  But for now, she just went back to her article, not even thinking about what Will had given her just days before.

************

Francie replaced the receiver gently.  Glancing at the clock, she wasn't happy to see it was now twelve-thirty.  She walked back into the living room and started turning off the lights.  As late as it was, even if he did show up, there wouldn't be any point in going out now.  Besides, she was tired.

When the living room was completely dark, she cast one final glance at the front door before shaking her head and turning towards her room wondering once more where he could possibly be.

************

Eric Weiss hated staying late, especially if it was because of reports.  Seemed to him that ever since he'd covered for Vaughn about Denpasar, he'd been pulling a lot more late nights and had a lot more paperwork to do.  

Putting his signature on the final report, he straightened his desk and prepared to leave.  As he slid back into his suit jacket, the phone started ringing.  Shaking his head in disgust, he reached over the desk and grabbed the receiver.  "Weiss."

"Weiss, it's Markham.  We've got a problem."

Eric groaned.   _What could possibly be wrong now?  "What's up?"_

"Edwards and I just got here to relieve Johansson and Parker."

"Yeah, so?"

"The safe house has been compromised.  Johansson and Parker are down."

_Shit.  Not tonight.  Running a hand through his hair, Weiss allowed the information to sink in.  "What about Tippin?"_

"He's not here."

_Shit, shit, shit!   Eric took a deep breath.  "Ok, I'll call Vaughn.  We'll be there ASAP.  Keep looking for Tippin."_

Hanging up, Eric immediately picked the phone back up and called Vaughn.  After four rings he got the machine.  He waited for the tone and then started screaming into the receiver.  "Come on, Mike, pick up the damn phone.  I know you're there.  I mean it's not like you have a life or anything.  Damn it Mike!  MIKE!!!!!"

"Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you and why are you calling me at," there was a momentary pause as Vaughn fumbled around for his alarm, "one-fifteen in the morning?"

"You need to get to the safe house.  Now."

Vaughn was immediately awake.  "Why?"

"Markham just called.  There's been some sort of problem."

"What sort of problem?"

"Tippin's missing."

"Shit, Syd went over to see him tonight.  I arranged it.  Were there signs of a struggle?"

"I'm not sure, Markham didn't really go into much detail, but we need to get there like now."

Vaughn was already out of bed and fishing around for clothes.  "I'll meet you there."

Only after hanging up, did Weiss remember having sent Zoe over with the new tapes.  Pulling his cell out as he left his office, he called Markham back.  Unlike Vaughn, Markham picked up on the first ring.

"Markham."

"Hey, it's Weiss.  Can you tell me, are there some blank audio tapes there?"

He could hear Markham moving things around in the background.  "Ten of them?"

Weiss breathed a sigh of relief.  She'd already been and gone.  "Yeah, that's them."

"Yeah, they're here.  Why?"

"We need to call Zoe Pierson and find out what time she left.  She might be able to give us a time frame for what happened."

"What does she have to do with this?"

"I asked her to take the tapes over," Weiss explained as he reached the elevator.

"Ok, give me her number and I'll call her.  When you get here, I'll let you know what I've found out."

Weiss gave Markham the number as the elevator arrived.  "Ok, I'm leaving now.  If Vaughn gets there before I do, tell him I'm on my way."

"Sure thing."

Weiss turned off his phone and slipped it in his pocket as he entered the elevator.  Pressing the button for the basement level, he waited impatiently as the car slowly descended.  When it finally reached the desired floor, he was out of the car before the doors had completely opened.  Running to where he'd parked, he opened the door and slid quickly behind the wheel.  Starting the engine, he pulled out of the space as he closed the door, tearing out of the garage on his way to the safe house.

************

Vaughn arrived at the safe house around one forty-five.  Getting out of the car, he was almost up the walk when Weiss pulled up.  Stopping where he was, he waited until Weiss joined him before entering the house.  

Walking down the hall, they went into the surveillance area where they found Tony Markham and Paul Edwards pulling sheets over two bodies.  Vaughn watched the scene before him, praying that Syd hadn't been there when this had happened.

"Mike, Eric," Markham stated as he stood back up.

"Tony.  Hey Paul.  What happened?" Weiss asked.

"Looks like whoever it was didn't want witnesses."

"What do you mean?" Vaughn asked.

Markham looked over at Vaughn.  "Whoever did this used a tazer and then poisoned them.  They were gone when we got here."

Vaughn leaned back against the wall.  "What about Tippin?  Do we know what happened to him?"

"Can't say.  I mean he's gone, but other than that, we haven't found any signs of a struggle or any blood.  We were just getting ready to look at the video feed when you two came in."

"Well, let's look at it then," Vaughn grumbled.

The four men gathered around the monitor and waited for the tape to rewind.  Pressing play all four were shocked to find nothing on the tape but snow.

"Damn it!  Where the fuck's the picture?" Weiss exclaimed.  What the hell was happening?  A safe house had been compromised, two agents were dead, and the man they'd been protecting was gone.  Now the video surveillance looked like it had been erased.  It just didn't make any sense.  Glancing back at Markham he asked if anyone had called Devlin yet.

"Yeah, Paul did.  He's on his way.  As for what happened to the tape, I don't know.  Maybe they ran a magnet over the machine."

"What about the audio?" Vaughn asked nervously.

"Give me a minute and I'll check," Edwards answered.  After a moment, he looked back at Vaughn.  "Hey Mike, which one do you want to listen to?"

"What do you mean, which one?"

"I mean which one--the one that's in the recorder or this one?" he asked as he grabbed a cassette labeled Tippin 1 up off the desk.

Vaughn looked over at Weiss and then back at Edwards.  "Tippin was only here for what?  Ten hours max?  And there are already 2 tapes?"

"Yup."

Vaughn ran his hand through his disheveled hair, causing it to stand even more on end than normal.  "Shit.  Just do the one in the recorder I guess," Vaughn replied as he fished around in his coat for his phone.  As much as he wasn't looking forward to being the one to call the man, Jack Bristow needed to know what was going on.

While Paul was busy checking the audio tape, Weiss pulled Markham to the side.  "Did you call Zoe?"

"Yeah, but I just got her machine.  Maybe she stopped off someplace on the way home.  Or maybe she was already asleep."

"She has a phone by her bed.  If she was home, she'd have picked up."

"She probably just stopped off somewhere.  We'll try again in a bit," Markham stated, ignoring Weiss's comment.

Eric was getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He remembered how stressed she'd looked when she'd popped into his office a few hours earlier.  She'd told him she was going straight home after dropping the tapes off and asked if he might be stopping by when he finished.  

When he'd looked up at her, she'd been smiling that sexy little smile of hers and he hadn't been able to resist her request.  Especially after hearing her rant about what an ass Haladki had been all day.  Maybe she'd just turned the phone off so when he got there, they wouldn't be disturbed.  _That's all it is, he reasoned.  __She just turned the ringer off.  She's fine.  Zoe's home and waiting for me to get there.  Right, keep telling yourself that, Eric.   Maybe one of these times you might believe it._

"Got something." Edwards reported finally.

Vaughn held up his hand, asking them silently to wait while he finished his conversation.  A moment later, he turned off the phone and moved back to the table with the others.

Eric nudged him gently.  "How is Jack this evening?"

"Not happy to hear from me."  

Weiss was about to say something when they were finally rewarded with the sound of voices.  Sydney and Will's to be exact.

At first Vaughn didn't really pay much attention, just hearing her voice was enough to calm him for the moment.  That calm was quickly shattered when he heard Will's declaration about loving Sydney for just being Sydney.

Looking back at Eric, Vaughn found his friend staring at him, silently asking if he'd known about this.  When Vaughn just shrugged his shoulders, Eric returned his focus to the table, both men realizing they hadn't heard Sydney's response.

"Is that it?" Vaughn asked, trying unsuccessfully to control his voice.

"Seems to be a problem with the tape," Edwards reported.  "Give me a sec."  After fiddling with the machine for a couple of seconds, the sound returned.  "Here we go," Edwards stated as he turned the sound back up.

Weiss leaned over to Vaughn, whispering, "Did you hear her say anything?"

Vaughn just shook his head as he listened to Sydney inform Will about the agents behind the glass and letting him know that if he needed something they were there to help.  Then he heard her leave.

The four men continued to listen to the tape, but upon hearing Will's request for something to eat, Vaughn had Edwards turn it off.

"Now I see why they needed the extra tapes," Weiss stated jokingly.

"Guess it's a good thing he doesn't write like he talks.  He'd bore people before they got through the first paragraph," Markham chimed in.

"You know, as funny as this might seem, he is missing and for all we know, he could be dead.  So why don't we just shut up and try to piece together what happened," Vaughn snapped.

Vaughn stepped back from the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  "Listen, I'm sorry, but this is serious.  And yeah, Tippin might talk a lot, but we were supposed to protect him.  And we haven't.  Now we have to find him and joking about how he never shuts up isn't going to help."  

Glancing back at Edwards, he tossed him two of the blank tapes.  "I need copies of both of these.  Can you do that for me now?"

Edwards just nodded, immediately preparing to duplicate the tapes.  

Twenty minutes later, the tapes were done and Vaughn prepared himself to go meet Jack.  It wasn't something he was looking forward to.  "Weiss, can I talk to you a minute?"

Weiss nodded and followed Vaughn into the hall.  "What's up?"

"I need to get to the warehouse.  Jack's probably already there and he was not happy that I called him.  If I make him wait much longer..."

"I hear ya."  Grabbing a clipboard, Eric gave it a cursory glance before turning back to his friend.  "You know, I think I'm going to go over and see if Zoe can tell me what time she left.  Maybe that way we can figure out how much of a head start they have."

"What about Devlin?"

"Edwards and Markham are here.  They can fill him in.  Besides, I just kind of want to go see her.  Make sure she's ok, you know?" he replied quietly.

"Yeah, I know.  I never would have figured you two."

"Why not?" Weiss asked, somewhat put off by what he thought Vaughn was implying.

"I didn't mean it like that.  I mean she's just so quiet and you're so..." Vaughn was at a loss on how to finish that statement.

"I'm so what?"

"I don't know.  You, I guess."

"Should I be offended?" Weiss asked, his tone humorous.

"No."

"Ok."

As he searched his pocket for his keys, Vaughn realized that Weiss had been holding the sign-in log.  "Hey, you said something about seeing what time Zoe left, right?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Why don't you just look on the log?"

Weiss rolled his eyes.  _Way to go, Eric, he thought as he picked up the clipboard he'd just been holding.  Checking the pages, he found what he was looking for.  And then prayed he'd read it wrong._

Weiss dropped the log and started tearing through the house, leaving a very confused Vaughn in his wake.  As he opened each door and flipped on lights, he shouted for her, drawing the attention of Edwards and Markham as well.

"Weiss, what the hell is wrong with you?" Vaughn shouted.

"Zoe signed in at 9:45.  She signed out at 10.  She should have been here no later than 8:30," he answered frantically.

Vaughn grabbed his friend, only to be cast aside like a rag doll.  "Eric, stop.  She's not in here.  Edwards and Markham have been all over this place.  She's not here."

"Mike, something's wrong.  She asked me to stop over when I got done.  Markham said she didn't answer her phone.  She knew I was coming over.  If she was there, she would have answered."

He was rambling and he knew it.  But it didn't matter.  He felt himself being pushed against the wall, surprised when he figured out it was Vaughn who was doing the pushing.

"Damn it, Eric!  She's not in here."

Weiss took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and failing.  He knew something was wrong.  He knew it and no matter what Vaughn said, nothing but Zoe standing in front of him would change his mind.  Shaking himself from his friend's grasp, he headed for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Vaughn demanded, watching as Weiss stormed off.

"I'm going to find her."

Vaughn caught up with him once he was outside.  "Do you want some help?"

"No," he replied, his voice now devoid of all emotion except fear.  "You need to go meet Jack.  I'll call you when I find her."

"Eric?"

"What?"

"She'll be ok," Vaughn stated, trying to remain positive.  "You will find her."  He'd never seen Weiss like that and it scared him.  Unfortunately, he could identify with his panic.  He'd been through that less than a half hour before because of Sydney.

"I know.  I think I'm just going to look around a little bit more."

Vaughn nodded and watched as Weiss turned back towards the house.  He was almost at his car when he heard Weiss scream.  Turning quickly, he ran to his friend who was slowly moving behind the hedge at the corner of the house.  "Eric?"

Vaughn watched helplessly as Weiss dropped to his knees next to the wall.  Going around the other side, he saw what had drawn Weiss over to that spot.  He stood there for what seemed an eternity as the scene burned itself forever in his mind.

Weiss looked up at Vaughn as he cradled Zoe's lifeless body in his arms.  "Mike?"

Vaughn knelt down beside him, watching as Weiss gently brushed a strand of hair from Zoe's face.  "What?" he asked quietly.

"I found her," Weiss whispered as he looked back down at Zoe, pulling her closer.  "But she's not ok."

************


	3. Part 2

By three a.m. Jack Bristow had swept the warehouse for bugs twice, paced through the corridor seven times, and cursed one Agent Michael Vaughn at least a dozen times--all after taking his time driving across town to Agent Vaughn's sanctuary.  _No, Jack corrected himself, __not just Vaughn's.   It had become Sydney's as well._

Instinctively he had known the young CIA handler would be late.  "Incompetent," Jack muttered to himself. "How the hell did he get promoted to senior agent?" he asked the desolate walls.  The walls seemed to answer him.  "Sydney, of course," Jack replied and sighed heavily before pacing once more.

It was another ten minutes before Jack finally saw the flash of headlights reflect against a stack of crates.  Seconds later footsteps could be heard, followed by a weary, mismatched Vaughn.  Jack's sharp eyes instantly noticed the white sock on his left foot, the brown sock on his right, the unlaced sneaker, the shirt half-tucked into the pants with the hole in the knee.

"Jack, thanks for meeting me," Vaughn began. "I'm sorry to bring you here in the middle of the night, but it's urgent."

"You said as much on the phone, Mr. Vaughn," Jack responded crisply.  "Exactly _what is wrong?"_

"A lot. For starters, Tippin's been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?"  The only thing that indicated Jack's surprise at this news was a slight twitch in one eye.  "He was kidnapped from the _safe house?"_

Vaughn kicked the toe of his sneaker against a crate, willing himself to look Jack in the eye. "Yes.  Johansson and Parker are dead.  We suspect they were poisoned, although we're waiting for confirmation from the lab work," he continued as Jack stared at him.  "Our video feed was damaged; we have nothing except for this," Vaughn finished, removing a portable cassette player and two cassettes from his pocket.

"The audio wasn't damaged?" Jack inquired.

"It doesn't seem to be.  When we got to the safe house, we only listened to ten minutes or so--apparently Will is quite the talker--but it came through loud and clear," Vaughn answered, hoping he sounded like a professional.  There was something about the man standing in front of him that always made him feel like a stupid little kid.  "There was one garbled section in the ten minutes we listened to, and it only lasted a few seconds."  _Why the hell did you bring that up, Mike?  Why don't you just admit your feelings to her cold, calculating father?_

Jack glanced at his watch--3:17 early Sunday morning.  "Does Sydney know yet?" he asked.

"Not yet.  I thought we might wait until we had more news to share with her before we bring her into this," Vaughn answered.

The two men looked at each other for a minute, understanding each other for quite possibly the first and last time.  If Sydney could be spared a moment's pain, these two men were willing to move heaven and earth to make it happen.

Vaughn broke the silence.  "There's more," he said, feeling a headache beginning.  "Zoe Pierson is dead.  Weiss found her outside the safe house as I was about to leave."

"Pierson? What was she doing there?" Jack wanted to know.

"Motormouth Tippin was worrying the agents; they thought they were going to run out of audio, so Weiss arranged for Zoe to drop off more cassettes on her way home.  Whoever ambushed the safe house must have encountered Zoe as she was leaving.  She's signed out in the log book at ten p.m." Vaughn exhaled slowly.  "Three murders, one abduction, and all we have as possible evidence is two sixty-minute tapes."

"Well, then, let's listen to these cassettes from the beginning," Jack ordered as he finally sank onto a nearby stool.  "Maybe we can find something."

"Okay. Well, the audio is voice-activated, so normally it doesn't pick up a lot.  But apparently Will had a lot on his mind after he landed in the States . . . ." Vaughn trailed off.  "But you can listen for yourself."  With that, he placed a cassette labeled "Tippin 1" in the recorder and pressed play.

************

At 3:29 Will wondered if there were any "normal" clothes, like corduroy, he could change into.

At 3:47 he vowed to never stick his nose where it didn't belong again.

At 4:06 Will decided to boost his spirits by singing a rousing rendition of "I Will Survive."  It took all of Vaughn's willpower not to burst into laughter in front of Jack.

"Agent Vaughn?"

"Yes?" he answered nervously.

"Never let Mr. Tippin go undercover as a lounge singer," Jack ordered sternly.

"Yes, sir," Vaughn choked out as a chuckle escaped his lips.

By 4:58 Jack's patience was wearing thin.  Over the course of cassette one and most of cassette two they had learned that Will enjoyed berating himself for getting himself into "this mess," as he put it; he didn't like the wig and new identity; and he couldn't speak with a French accent, no matter how many hours he spent trying (presumably in front of the two-way "mirror").

"Doesn't he ever shut up?" Jack muttered to himself as Vaughn stilled.  _He must recognize this, Jack realized.  __It's almost as if he's listening for something in particular._

As Jack tuned back in to the audio recording, he recognized a new voice, a voice he would know anywhere.  Sydney.

He hit the pause button.  "What the hell was she doing at the safe house?" he burst out.

"I thought it was a good idea . . . for both of them," Vaughn defended himself.  "After the way things were left in Paris, Sydney needed to see him and remind him that he couldn't reveal anything about this.  And I think she wanted to reassure herself that he was still alive, not suffering the same fate as Danny," he concluded as his headache raged to life.

"That is no excuse.  Security section could have been tracking her.  Did you ever think that this abduction could be the work of SD-6?" Jack shot back.

_Shit.   Vaughn had been so busy focusing on the three who now lay dead, as well as the missing Will, that SD-6's possible involvement had not occurred to him.  Who were they dealing with here?  Khasinau?  SD-6?  The Alliance?  K-Directorate, even?_

"Let's just finish the tape," Vaughn said in a low voice as he pressed play again.

Sydney's plea to Will to stay quiet filled the warehouse, as did his realization that she had needed his sister's passport to save herself from a similar situation.  Then came the moment Vaughn was dreading.

"I love you."  As much as Vaughn hated to hear those words directed at Sydney from this man's lips, he strained to hear her answer, hoping that it would be picked up on this machine.  But once again the tape gave him nothing.

"If my daughter said anything to Mr. Tippin at this moment, it was the 'I love you as a friend' speech," Jack matter-of-factly told Vaughn as the younger agent looked at him, mouth open.  "She's had a lot of practice giving that speech over the years."

"That--but--we just need to make sure that--" Vaughn sputtered.

"Focus!" Jack commanded.  "Whatever your opinion is of Will Tippin, he is gone and at the mercy of one of any number of organizations.  We do not have time for your silly attachment to my daughter." As he said this, Sydney's explanation that there were CIA agents watching could be heard.  Moments later, a door closed, followed by Will's request for food.

The tape made a clicking noise and was silent for a few seconds except for a humming sound in the background.  Vaughn reached over to stop the tape.  "Don't," Jack ordered.  "There's more."  He leaned over and turned up the volume.

"How can there be?  There's just this odd humming noise that's probably just the recorder.  If there were anymore audio, the tape player would have picked it up by now."

"Do you know that for sure?" Jack challenged.  "You said yourself that you only listened to ten minutes of tape."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Vaughn answered sarcastically.  "After finding two agents down and their charge kidnapped, we had nothing better to do than listen to two hours of Will Tippin's blathering!"  He pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best not to jump out of his seat and fully lash out at Jack, who was his superior.  And Sydney's father.  "We rewound the tape that was in the player and listened to ten minutes just to confirm that at least we had audio that was operational.  I never claimed to have listened to the whole damn tape, Jack.  If I had, do you think I would have put you through the last two hours of torture?"

Jack blinked once, surprised.  _Perhaps the kid is developing a spine after all.  "Well, Mr. Vaughn, why don't we finish this tape and see what else Mr. Tippin decided to sing?" he suggested as he pushed play._

Thirty seconds later, Vaughn once again felt like a stupid child when the humming grew louder and more insistent.  It was a certain safeguarded civilian, humming the theme song from _Jaws, Vaughn realized. Two minutes later the tape was silent, then could be heard clicking back on.  A knock at the door.  A comment of some sort from Will that could not be distinguished. And what sounded like a gunshot._

"This part is critical," Jack stated. "We need this analyzed--now."

Vaughn nodded, looking at his watch. 5:36.  Could it really be just four hours ago that he was rushing to the safe house?  "One of us needs to take this for analysis, and one of us needs to tell Sydney."

"I'll take this to the lab--"

"I'll call Sydney--"

Jack and Vaughn stopped, each mid-sentence. "I'll notify you when I hear something," Jack said.  He stood up and walked away, the cassette tucked in his coat pocket.

************

Weiss pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition.  Wrapping his fist around the keys, he leaned his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes.  _This isn't happening.  When I open my eyes I'll find out it was just a bad dream.   Even as Weiss thought this, his gut was telling him otherwise.  The hollow ache was still there, beating in his chest, as was the lump in his throat so large it threatened to choke the oxygen his lungs so desperately needed._

Giving up, he opened his eyes and raised his head from the wheel.  Swallowing, he exited the car and walked up the steps leading to the front door.  One key from his key ring and he was in. The image before him assaulted his senses.  It was so normal--the stack of bills on the table, waiting to be paid; the dishes stacked in the sink; the textbooks sitting next to the computer, many sections highlighted for emphasis.  He knew that if he walked down the hall he would find the nightgown on the floor next to the unmade bed; she never could accurately toss it back to the bed from the bathroom when she got ready in the morning.  Her favorite blouse would be hanging in the shower, drying from its latest wash. 

Slowly Weiss walked through the living room, examining every detail, exploring every memory this place held of Zoe.  There was this morning's cereal bowl resting on the end table, next to the remote.  The movies they had rented two nights ago were still sitting on the coffee table.  They had to be returned before noon tomorrow, Weiss noted bleakly to himself.  "We never even finished watching them," he said aloud.  They had planned on having a movie marathon over the weekend, this weekend, before getting overwhelmed at the office.  And the one movie they tried to watch ended up forgotten as their latest tickle fight got out of hand, Weiss remembered with a small smile; her nightgown never made it to the bed that night either.  He could still see every image of their last night together so clearly; he clung to those memories now.

Her death was so pointless, so unnecessary.  Why did it have to be her?  She was young, beautiful, intelligent.  Loved by her family, whom she loved with a fierceness that surprised most. Extremely well-educated, six hours away from completing her second masters degree.  She even made working for Haladki into an art--she was the only one who could put up with his crap and give it right back without getting a trip to Barnett or a pink slip.  Perhaps because she hoped that one day the tables would be turned and she would be his superior as a CIA deputy director. 

That was her dream, discussed late at night as she lay against his chest.  She was graduating in August, December at the latest, with her degree in criminal justice.  From there she was hoping to parlay her education and language experience into admission into the CIA training program.  She was already prepping for the endurance testing, running two miles every morning and strength training three times a week.  The CIA would have been lucky to have her as an agent.

But that would never happen.  And it was all his fault.  He was the one who cajoled her into running one little errand for him on her way home after a full day on the job that wasn't even part of her forty-hour paid work week.  "It'll just take a minute, Zoe," he had pleaded.  "It's even on the way home."

He knew she would say yes, even if she didn't really want to.  He could see the exhaustion in her face, the messy ponytail she now sported after hours of doing Haladki's bidding.  But he also knew that she could see the stacks of papers and files surrounding him, realize that last night instead of being with her he had been buried in the work that still surrounded him.  So to ease his load, she said yes to his simple request.

And it killed her.

He cursed the agents who had not stocked the safe house with enough audio tapes, he cursed Will Tippin for talking so damn much when he was the only one there, he cursed whoever or whatever (probably Haladki) had kept Zoe from leaving for the safe house before 8:30 p.m.

He cursed himself for sending her on the errand as he sank to the ground and let the tears flow.

************

He was in Paris with a ravishing Sydney at his side.  She looked so beautiful, her long brown hair gleaming in the light, the slinky purple dress showing off her curves.  They were dancing cheek to cheek when suddenly Sydney twirled in his arms . . .

. . . and was suddenly jumping off a chair, her legs kicking some thug who held him hostage.  Her red hair--was it a wig?--framed her face as she grabbed him by the arm and urged him up the stairs.  _Who is this? he wondered as the hand on his shoulder became more insistent._

"Good morning, Mr. Tippin," he heard a man with a clipped British accent say to him.  "Did you enjoy your nap?" he asked patronizingly.

"Who--what--where am I?" Will finally chose a question to ask.

"Why, you _are  an intelligent one, Mr. Tippin," the man--__hell, he looks more like a kid to me, Will thought--said with a smirk on his face. "I would have thought a modern American such as yourself would know that when you can look out a window and see nothing but clouds, chances are good you are on an airplane."_

Turning slightly, Will could see out one of the windows.  Apparently, they were on a plane, although maybe not for long.  It felt like they were descending into . . . somewhere.

"Who are you?  And why am I here?" Will asked as he tried to figure out what exactly had happened.

"The agency regretted that it didn't have an opportunity to get your full statement, so I was sent to question you myself."

"Couldn't you do that in L.A.?"

"Mr. Tippin, are you really as dumb as you appear?"  After looking at his dumbfounded expression, he emitted a short laugh.  "Perhaps you are. It's amazing that you disturbed the world of intelligence at all."

"You mean you're an intelligence officer too?" Will inquired.

"Yes."

"Do you work with a man named Jack Bristow?"

"We have worked together on occasion," the man answered as he smoothly ran one hand through his blonde hair.

"Oh, good," Will said with a sigh of relief.  He opened his mouth, prepared to ask another question, when a woman in a pilot's uniform suddenly materialized and conferenced with the young man standing before him.

"Mr. Tippin, the co-pilot has informed me that I need to be in my seat buckled up.  We will talk again soon," the man said formally before stepping through a curtain.

************

The sound of the door opening caused Weiss to jerk out of his restless sleep.  Yawning, he stared at the sweatshirt he was clutching for a pillow as he stood up from the sofa and stretched.

"Hey, baby," he said softly just before Vaughn appeared in the doorway.  "Mike?  What are you--" he stopped suddenly.  "Where's Zoe?" he asked, his brain muddled.

His nightmarish reality quickly returned as Vaughn gave him a sympathetic look.  "It--it wasn't a dream?  She's really . . . really . . . ." he couldn't finish.

Vaughn nodded. "I thought that was her coming in the door," Weiss said quietly.  "We're supposed to finish watching those movies we rented so we don't have ten dollars in late fees like last time.  She never even got to see that new comedy she was so excited about seeing.  She's supposed to get cold and put on this sweatshirt again," he indicated his makeshift pillow, "and then she's supposed to make me into her pillow and I'm supposed to complain about it and then she's supposed to fall asleep on me before the end credits," he finished, his voice rising.

Vaughn had never seen his friend look this way.  This was not the same man who some thought could solve the world's troubles with beer and a stripper; he had never been that man really, it was nothing more than an act.  An act that had protected him from his parents' brutal divorce, something he had only mentioned once in all the years they had known each other.  Deep down was a man more than willing to commit; he was just waiting for the right woman.  And that woman, he now realized, had been Zoe Pierson.

Weiss walked away from Vaughn and sat down at the kitchen table.  From this vantage point his eyes could carefully study the rising sun from the nearby window.  Vaughn was certain that Weiss didn't really see anything but images of Zoe, images that would haunt him.  The tears began to roll down his cheeks once again as his whole body trembled.  "Zoe," Weiss cried as a helpless Vaughn stood by him, offering him a Kleenex, patting his shoulder.

Many minutes later the tears slowly stopped and a red-eyed Weiss looked up at Vaughn.  He swallowed before speaking.  "Do we know yet who is responsible for this?" he asked, the smoldering rage evident even in his low tones.

"Not yet.  But Jack Bristow found some more audio on tape 2.  It's in analysis right now.  From there hopefully we'll be able to pinpoint the assassin."

"But it won't bring Zoe back," Weiss said mournfully.

"No, it won't," Vaughn told him honestly.  "Look, I don't want you alone.  You're coming with me," he ordered.

Weiss stood up and followed him back into the living room without argument.  "Where are we going?"

"We'll talk on the way," Vaughn replied as he turned off the lights and locked the door using the spare key under the doormat.  Vaughn revved the engine and backed the car out onto the street as Weiss noticed that the clock read 6:49 a.m.  Wordlessly, Vaughn pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.  After a short pause, he said one phrase before hanging up the phone and speeding towards the highway.

"Joey's Pizza."

************


	4. Part 3

Here's Part 3, where Sydney finally makes her appearance.

**_Please leave a review if you want us to continue posting!_**

For disclaimers, etc. see A/N at the beginning.

~~~~~

Vaughn glanced at Weiss before returning his eyes to the road in front of him.  He had remained silent when he'd called Sydney and throughout his entire conversation with Jack, which had ended over five minutes ago.  Thinking about it, Vaughn realized that Weiss had not said a word since they'd left Zoe's.  He'd just sat there looking out the window at the passing buildings.  

He honestly didn't know what to do for his friend.  Vaughn remembered Sydney describing what it was like to find Danny the way she had, but he'd never thought he'd witness something similar.  Unfortunately, tonight he had. 

Knowing he had some time before they had to be at the warehouse to meet Sydney, Vaughn decided to stop for some coffee.  With what little sleep he'd had, he was going to need all the help he could get to stay awake for what was looking to be a very long day.  

"Hey, do you want anything?" Vaughn asked.

For the first time since they'd left Zoe's apartment, Weiss looked at his friend.  "Huh?" he replied, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke.  He hadn't really paid much attention to the second phone call Vaughn had made, choosing instead to stare out the window, ignoring everything but his reflection in the glass.

He didn't have to guess where they were going or who they were going to meet; Vaughn uttering the "Joey's Pizza" code had told him everything he needed to know.  Finally, he couldn't take his reflection staring back at him any longer and he'd closed his eyes, resting his head against the window.  He hadn't realized they'd stopped until Vaughn nudged his shoulder.

"I'm gonna get some coffee.  Do you want anything?"

_Yeah, I want to wake up and find out this has all been some horrible mistake, Weiss thought sadly.  I __want to wake up and find Zoe curled up next to me.  I want a lot of things.  Shaking his head, he just looked back out the window.  "I don't care."_

Vaughn shook his head at Weiss's response.  He had a feeling that he was going to regret bringing him along, but he hadn't known what else to do.  He certainly wasn't about to leave him at Zoe's by himself.

Stepping from the car, he went into the small mom and pop store.  He wandered around for a few minutes, trying to figure out what supplies they might need for the day ahead.  Stopping in front of the coffee dispenser, he grabbed four large cups and began filling them.  

He grabbed one of the carry-out trays and placed the cups in it.  Carefully balancing the tray, he grabbed a bag of cookies and then returned them to the shelf when he saw the donut case.

Placing the cups on the ledge, he grabbed a bag and placed an assortment of pastries inside.  Picking up his tray, he made his way to the register.

"My, you certainly like your coffee, don't you?" the clerk asked, putting down the comics.  When Vaughn didn't reply, she just shrugged.  "Did you find everything you were looking for?" 

Vaughn looked at the woman, and then saw what he'd been looking for.  "Actually, I was looking for the aspirin, but I see that it's behind you."

"Which one do you want?" she asked.

"Um, a bottle of Excedrin and maybe a bottle of Tylenol.  Oh, and some Vivarin?"

The girl laughed.  "You aren't planning on taking all of that at once, are you?"

Vaughn smiled for the first time in what seemed a lifetime.  "No.  I just have a headache from hell and a meeting to go to.  How much do I owe you?"

"That'll be $17.92," she answered.  

As Vaughn handed her the money, she looked back outside.  "It's too bad you have to go to a meeting.  If the sunrise is any indication, it looks like it's going to be a beautiful day."  

Vaughn waited for his change as she continued.  "You know, I think that is one of the things I like most about this shift."

Stuffing the money in his pocket, he glanced back at her.  "What's that?" he asked, not really wanting to chat, but not wanting to be rude either.

"I get to see every sunrise.  I don't know what it is, but I just never get tired of seeing them.  Each one is always so different, but it's always the same, you know?" she asked, looking at Vaughn.

"Yeah," Vaughn replied distantly as he gathered his purchases.  He glanced back at the young woman behind the counter, noticing her name tag for the first time.  _Joy.  It fit her perfectly.  "Um, thanks."_

"Sure thing.  Hope your meeting doesn't ruin your day," she added before going back to her paper.

He didn't have the heart to tell her his day was ruined at one-fifteen that morning or that no matter how beautiful the sunrise, it wasn't going to be a beautiful day.  Instead he just told her thanks once more and left the store.

Seeing Weiss staring out the window again, Vaughn didn't even bother asking him to help.  Setting the donuts and the tray of cups on the roof of the car, he opened the door and placed everything on the floor behind the driver's seat before slipping behind the wheel and closing the door.  

He glanced at the motionless Weiss again before looking back inside the little store.  He could see the girl behind the counter smiling.  God, he wished he could be that carefree, that _innocent again.  But that would never happen.  He knew too much about all the bad things that could happen to good people.  Shaking the thought from his head, he started the engine and got back on the highway.  No matter how gorgeous the sunrise, it was going to be a very long day._

************

Sydney sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the clock beside her.  The red numbers glared 7:05 a.m.  As she watched the time change from 7:05 to 7:06, she thought about getting a new alarm clock.   She hated seeing the red glow from her clock as she tried to sleep at night.  She'd seen more than enough of that color to last her a lifetime.  

As the clock flipped to 7:07, she stood up.  _Jesus, Syd, concentrate, she thought.  Something had to be wrong.  Vaughn never called her this early in the morning.  And he'd sounded so strange.  She'd almost asked him what was wrong instead of saying the standard "wrong number."  Sydney grimaced.  She'd find out as soon as she got her ass in gear and started moving._

With that thought foremost in her mind, she grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, changing out of her pajamas and dressing quickly.  She picked up her tennis shoes and slipped into them, all while trying to be quiet so she wouldn't wake Francie.

"Syd?" Francie called sleepily.

Sydney dropped her head, hating the fact that she would, once again, have to lie to her friend.  Poking her head through the doorway, she smiled.  "Yeah?"

"What are you doing up?"

"Oh, some idiot called wanting someone named Carly.  And when I told them there was no one named Carly at this number, the guy said to stop lying and get her.  He just knew she was here."

"Jeez.  What did you tell him?" Francie asked as she propped herself up slightly.

"I tried explaining that no one named Carly was here, that I didn't even know anyone named Carly and then I asked what number he was calling.  Stupid jerk had transposed the number."

"So why are you up?"

"After arguing with the idiot, I didn't think I'd be able to get back to sleep so I thought maybe I'd go for a run this morning.  Haven't done that for awhile."

"Oh, ok," Francie answered, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn as she lay back down.  "You want company?"

Sydney smiled.  "That's ok.  You look like you need some more sleep."

"Hey!"

"You know I didn't mean it like that."

Francie mumbled something into her pillow and Sydney laughed.  "Ok, tell you what.  You got back to sleep for a bit.  I'll go for a run and maybe I can pick up something for breakfast on the way home?"

"Sounds good," Francie answered as she buried herself under the covers.  "See ya."

"Ok, Fran.  I'll see you in a bit," Sydney stated as she started to close the door to Francie's room.

"Hey Syd?" Francie called before the door closed.

Sydney poked her head back in.  "Yeah?"

"Did you hear anything from Will yesterday?  We were supposed to go out and he didn't show."

Sydney froze, trying to remain calm.  "No.  I didn't hear from him yesterday," she lied, her voice tight.

"Ok.  Just wondered," Francie answered as she burrowed further underneath the covers.

She closed the door quietly behind her, walking quickly into the living room, she grabbed her keys.  Stepping outside, she made sure the door was locked behind her before she ran to her car and took off for the warehouse.

************

"This is your captain speaking.  Welcome to Newark International Airport.  Local time is 10:15 a.m. and currently the temperature is 85 degrees."

Will shifted in his seat.  It was 10:15 already?  Wait a minute--he was on the East Coast now.  So really it was . . . . He did some quick mental calculations.  So really it was 7:15 in L.A.  Will shook his head.  He had never liked time changes; it always messed with his system somehow.

But right now there were more important things to worry about than the time.  Where were they going to take him?  Another safe house?  Drive him down to Langley?  Wow.  Maybe he could even meet Hoover.

_Will, the little voice inside reminded him, __Hoover's been dead for years.  And besides, he was FBI, not CIA._

When did the little voice get so smart?

"You may unbuckle your safety belt.  Thank you for flying with us, and have a great day," the captain said over the intercom.

Relieved, Will unbuckled the safety belt and stood up, stretching his legs.  It was hard to tell he was on an airplane.  This was unlike any he had ever been on--plush, comfortable seats whose backs were against the walls, so that the two rows of seats faced each other.  Plenty of leg room. No annoying let-down meal tray.  No crying baby three rows back or chain smoker sitting beside him, unlike his flight from Paris to L.A. just two days ago.  In fact, Will noted, it didn't seem like there were any other passengers.  Since he didn't know where he was supposed to go, he stepped towards the curtain that the British guy had walked through, hoping to find answers.

Will's hand was on the curtain when he bumped into the British guy.  "Mr. Tippin, please come with me," he ordered.  Will followed the man through the curtain and a private section with just four seats.  He reflexively held a hand to his face to block out some of the bright sun as they walked down the steps of the plane.  A man on what looked like a golf cart was waiting for them on the ground.

"Where are we going?" Will asked as the private plane grew smaller in the distance.

"We will be traveling in my employer's private plane for the rest of our journey.  I assure you that you will find yourself most comfortable," the young man answered as he stared straight ahead, eyes never blinking.

Will took his cue from his companion and did not say another word, even as they boarded the new plane.  This plane was so ornate and grandiose that it made the first one look like a broken-down piece of junk.  Once again, the stairs of the plane led them to what appeared to be a private section with a curtain at the back.

The young man nodded towards the curtain.  "You can buckle up in the other room," he said, as if it were a request and not an order.  "We will be taking off shortly."

"Where are we going?" Will asked again.

"For now, let's just keep that a surprise, okay?" the man answered, another smirk crossing his features.  "You will know soon enough."

************

Will walked through the curtain and blinked.  There were cats everywhere--in the seats, tangled in the seat belts, meowing from the lone lavatory, even hanging out of what Will presumed was a storage bin.  White cats, brown cats, calico cats, even a black cat that seemed to be staring directly at him.

Will gulped.  This was _not going to be a fun flight.  Obviously the CIA didn't know too much about him, because if they did they would know about his allerg--_

"Achoo!" Will sneezed, startling the cats.

"Is everything all right in there?" British Dude called from behind the curtain.

"Um, just fine," Will called back.

_After all the CIA's done to save my ass, wouldn't it be rude to point out something as minor as a little allerg--  "Achoo!" he sneezed again.  "Man," he groaned, "this is not good."  Will looked around the cabin--cats everywhere.  He swore under his breath as he fought another sneeze.  "Would you happen to know where the Kleenex is?" he asked the cats as he sneezed for the third time._

Will could hear a muffled noise behind him, signaling that the plane's door was closing.  "Hello, this is your captain speaking," a woman's voice came over the intercom.  "Please fasten your safety belt at this time.  We are eighth in line to take off."

Will looked longingly outside at the fresh air, the cat-free air.  _Maybe it's just a short flight to Langley, he thought hopefully.  As the plane soared in the sky twenty minutes later, he looked at the cats surrounding him, sleeping on him, going to the bathroom on his shoe.  And then he remembered everything else about the last few days and how well everything had gone._

_Or maybe it's the never-ending flight to hell._

************

Sydney entered the warehouse, checking as she always did for signs that something, anything, was wrong.  The traffic was unusually bad for a Sunday morning because of a four-car pileup on the highway.  As she impatiently sat in her car, wishing it would sprout wings, she cursed the traffic, becoming more frantic with each passing minute.

She walked quickly towards the fenced-off room they used for their briefings, each step coming faster than the last until she was running.  Reaching the fence, she came to an immediate halt when she saw Vaughn at the table, his head in his hands.

"Vaughn?" she questioned as she opened the metal gate.  "What's wrong?"

Vaughn looked up, startled by her presence.  "Um, why don't you sit down."

Sydney did as she was asked.  Once seated, she had to turn to find Vaughn, who'd begun pacing behind her.  "Vaughn, you're scaring me.  What's wrong?"

Vaughn moved back to the opposite side of the table and sat down, still unsure of how to tell her about Will's abduction.  He grabbed one of the packets of sugar he'd picked up at the convenience store and began playing with it.  "Sydney, I don't know how to tell you this," he began.

Sydney grabbed the edge of the table tightly.  "Tell me what?"  Looking directly at Vaughn, she waited for a second before she haltingly asked, "Is it about my... my dad?" 

"No.  It's not your father.  Syd, there was a problem at the safe house.  Will's missing."

Sydney sat gawking at him, certain she hadn't heard him correctly.  A short, nervous laugh was her only immediate reaction.  "How can Will be missing?  He was at a safe house.  He was being watched.  Maybe he..." she babbled.

Vaughn was beside her before she could finish the sentence.  "Sydney.  We will find out what happened to him."

Sydney looked at Vaughn, searching for some sign that it was all some horrid mistake.  The look of pity, however, was more than she could stand.  Pushing back from the table, she stood, turning away from him and back towards the gate.

Vaughn grabbed at her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.  "Syd, where are you going?"

"I'm going to see what happened for myself," she stated as her hand rested on the metal latch, only to be turned back around by Vaughn.

"Sydney, you cannot go over there," Vaughn protested.

"Why the hell not?  I mean, is someone going to see me going in there and if they do, so what? Vaughn, they walked in there and they took Will.  Where the hell were the guards when all this happened?"

"Those _agents are dead," Weiss stated flatly._

Sydney turned to see Weiss emerging from the other side of the enclosure.  "Weiss?  What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Agent Bristow."

Sydney turned back to Vaughn.  "What the hell is going on here, Vaughn?  You tell me that Will is gone and no one knows where he is.  Then Weiss says the guards, no sorry, _agents are dead.  Who the hell was on duty last night, Barney Fife?"_

Weiss came to a halt in front of Sydney.  "No, as a matter of fact, Johansson and Parker were on duty at the time.  Two of our most reliable men," he stated coldly.

"Well, obviously they weren't reliable enough," Sydney shot back.

"Listen here,_ Agent Bristow," Weiss snapped.  His caustic tone and the sarcastic way he had said "agent" were not lost on Sydney.  For some reason he was taking this far too personally, but she couldn't understand why.  "Those men were outstanding agents who were trying to protect someone who should have never been there in the first place.  And why was he there?" Weiss paused, giving her an icy stare.  "Hmm, let's see.  Could it possibly be because of you?"_

"Now wait a minute," Sydney countered.  "I didn't bring him into this.  My father..."

"Stop it!" Vaughn shouted as he moved between the two of them.

Weiss just looked around his friend and glared at the woman who was standing behind him.  "Yes, _your father.  Will, __your friend.  You know, contrary to what you might think, the world does not revolve around you and your father or your friends.  And this will probably come as a shock to you, but there are some of us at the CIA who don't think we should have to go around cleaning up __your messes or take care of __your problems."_

Sydney's arm lashed out from behind Vaughn and before he could block the movement, her hand connected soundly with Weiss's cheek.  "You son of a bitch," she swore, trying to rub away the stinging sensation in her palm.

Vaughn turned and pushed Sydney back a bit, not realizing that for every step he forced Sydney to take, Eric took one to match.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?  Not once did you express concern for the agents who were guarding _your friend.  You just automatically assumed that whoever had been on duty was incompetent.  Well, guess what?  They weren't.  She wasn't."_

Vaughn turned back around to face Weiss.  "Back off, Eric," he stated menacingly.

Weiss looked like he was about to say something else but instead just walked away and sat down at the table.

After Weiss had seated himself, Vaughn followed, grabbing for the aspirin that was placed next to his cup.  After finally opening the bottle, he dumped a few into his hand, replaced a couple, then popped the others in his mouth and grabbed his coffee.  

At that moment it didn't matter that the coffee was still a little too hot; he just needed something to stop the pounding in his head.  He set the cup back on the table, looking at Weiss as he did.  As quickly as Weiss's anger had surfaced, it had disappeared, leaving behind a man who was desperately trying to hold on to what little control he had left.

Vaughn gripped Weiss's shoulder before slowly walking back to where Sydney was still standing, rubbing his eyes as he did.  "Sydney..."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah.  Just have a really bad headache."

"Oh."  Sydney was still confused by what had transpired a few minutes before.  She had never seen Weiss lose control like that before and it had scared her a bit.  Glancing first at Vaughn and then back at Weiss, she recognized, no, she understood that look on his face.  She thought quickly about the last thing he'd said.  She who?  Who the hell was there who shouldn't have been?

"Vaughn, he said _she wasn't.  What did he mean?  __She who?"_

Vaughn let his head drop for a moment before looking at her.  "Johansson and Parker weren't the only ones who were killed tonight.  A really good friend of Eric's was murdered as well."

"Oh God."  This was not happening.  Not again.  Not to someone else she knew, even if she didn't know him well.  "Why was she there?"

"She was dropping something off for him."

"Weiss sent her?" she whispered.

"Yes."

Sydney looked at Weiss briefly, before focusing again on Vaughn.  "Did the video show anything?"

"Something happened to the tape.  It was...  The video was blank.  But thankfully, the audio was intact."

_"Audio?"  Sydney questioned._

"Yes.  Like I said, the audio tapes were sent for analysis, we should hear something soon."

Had they been recording _everything Will said, Sydney wondered.  And if they had, did that mean Vaughn had heard what he said to her?_

She moved away from the wall, still thinking about exactly what Vaughn had heard.  She walked over to the table where Weiss sat, his head resting on his arms.  "Weiss," she began.  Clearing her throat, she started over.  "Eric."  It sounded strange using his given name.  "I'm sorry.  About what I said.  And I'm sorry I slapped you.  You were right.  I was worried about Will.  I wasn't thinking."

Weiss raised his head and sat back, watching her for a moment.  The expression on her face was genuine.  "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

"It's ok," she smiled sadly.  "I do understand."

_I'm sure you do, he thought as he felt a tear slide down his face._

"Shhh," Sydney said softly, wrapping her arms around him.  She was surprised when he wound his arms around her waist, resting his head just below her breasts.  

Vaughn walked behind Weiss, standing in the shadows.  He caught Sydney's eye and silently thanked her.  At her confused expression, he just pointed at Weiss.  He watched as she nodded slightly before she tightened her embrace around his friend.


	5. Part 4

Thanks for the reviews so far--we appreciate them!  Please continue to send your comments!  g

And welcome to our newest beta, Steph!  Thanks for joining the fun! 

For disclaimers, etc. please see A/N at the front of the story.

~~~~~~~~

Jack Bristow's watch read 8:41 a.m. as he slowly put his car into park.  Looking around one final time for a tail and finding none, he finally reached for his briefcase and exited the car.

Analysis of the cassette had taken far longer than he had anticipated, even with his standard browbeating. Three hours' work to get less than twenty minutes of audio analyzed.  Jack sighed.  With all the advances in technology, it seemed as if the technicians were still painstakingly slow with their work.  If this hadn't been so urgent, he would have been tempted to have another brief section analyzed as well . . . but that was not meant to be.  Jack would just have to see that Mr. Tippin was rescued so he could give him a lecture on the proper manner in which to treat Sydney.

Speaking of Sydney . . . . Jack noticed that Sydney's car was parked outside, as was Agent Vaughn's.  He was impressed that Vaughn was keeping his word, probably breaking the news to Sydney right now.

Jack's jaw tightened.  _Or maybe . . . he pushed the thought aside.  Surely, not when one of Sydney's closest friends was missing, they wouldn't . . . or would they?  __They're professionals, he reminded himself, even as he mentally recounted more than one instance where their behavior had been anything but.  And the look on Vaughn's face a few hours earlier had been anything but professional after hearing Tippin's declaration of love.  He grimaced and his stride lengthened as he soundlessly walked towards the entrance._

Walking through the door undetected was not a problem, nor was his short walk to the metal link fence.  The sight that met his eyes, however, caused him to tighten his hands into fists so tight that he was certain he would be bleeding soon on the warehouse floor.

There was his daughter, in the arms of a man who was traveling up her upper body until they were face-to-face.  "Thank you," was brokenly whispered from his lips as she wiped the tears from his face.

Jack's hand was millimeters from the chain link fence when he heard Weiss ask, "Mike, where do you keep the Kleenex in this joint?"

Jack blinked.  _Agent Weiss?__  What was he doing, enjoying the show?  As Jack stared, he realized that it was Weiss who had been in his daughter's arms, not Agent Vaughn._

_Pierson, he realized.  __She was comforting him about Pierson.  Why did that make him feel such a sense of relief?  He watched as Vaughn appeared from the shadows.  "This is the best I've got," he said, indicating what appeared to be a napkin._

"You mean after all the stuff you two have been through here you don't even keep a box of Kleenex here?" Weiss asked, trying to make a joke.  No one laughed.

To cover the awkward moment, Weiss stood and blew his nose--loudly--with the napkin that was offered.  Jack focused his attention on the remaining two agents, engrossed in a conversation that he was unable to hear.

As Weiss blew his nose one last time for good measure, Sydney and Vaughn's voices hit a crescendo over the dull roar and traveled to Jack's ears.

"You want to pull in _who?" Sydney practically screamed._

"You heard me the first time," Vaughn answered, trying to stay calm.

"What the hell are you thinking, bringing him into this?  It will accomplish nothing.  The only thing he'll do is try to keep us apart!" she retorted loudly as Weiss stopped and stared.  

Realizing what she said, she backtracked.  "I mean he'll try to keep us from working together.  He'll have us in Barnett's office faster than you can say 'protocol.'  Don't you see that?" she finished weakly.

Jack's heart slammed in his chest as he realized who they were referring to.  _Is it any surprise that she feels this way?  You did this to her!_

"He is an outstanding agent, one of the best the L.A. bureau has ever seen, and he _will be a part of this search and rescue, Sydney."  Vaughn's tone was firm, authoritative._

"Outstanding, huh?" she shot back.

"Yes," he answered her, staring into her eyes.

"Brilliant?"

"Yes."

Sydney smiled for a moment, and Jack could see that Vaughn relaxed.  Hell, a blind person would have noticed the way Vaughn visibly relaxed.  _Watch out, he thought to himself, __she's going for the kill now._

"Then why did this allegedly brilliant man bring a civilian into a deep-cover operation in the first place?  If it weren't for my father and his damn judgment calls, Will would never have gotten into this mess!"

Funny.  Part of him was dying on the inside, and yet another part was strangely proud.  That was his girl, showing up the big boys.  Jack shook his head.  This was what a lifetime of lies did to you.  They left you unable to have even one normal conversation with your daughter, to share one meal with her for the first time in years.  They left you helpless as you watched your daughter rise above the ashes of her dead fiancé and join yet another agency you wished she had never heard of.  But when did it all begin?  When did the lies overshadow everything else?

_"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." The verse, long dormant in the recesses of his brain from his childhood years in Sunday school, haunted him as he spent a year contemplating the shambles of his life.  In Jack's opinion, the apostle couldn't have been more wrong if he tried.  For it was only when Jack learned the truth of his . . . __wife --he hated that term now--that the lies took over a man who had once been content in life._

Jack broke out of his reverie as the shouting escalated just a few feet away.  _If the intel is any indication, there will be plenty of time for this introspection later.  Pushing thoughts of his past aside, he forcefully pushed the gate open and marched into the interior room.  Sydney and Vaughn were still arguing, oblivious to his presence.  At least Weiss had been trained in the importance of observation skills when working for the CIA; he noticed him instantly, and more importantly, tried to interrupt the duel as it continued in front of him._

"Mike, I really don't think this is a good time for this," he shouted over the din.

"Later, Eric," Vaughn bit back, running his fingers through his hair. "Syd, for the millionth time, could you just listen for ten damn seconds?  It's going to happen, whether you like it or not."

"Like hell it is!" she roared, pushing a finger against his chest.  Was it his imagination, or did Vaughn seem to twitch when she touched him?_  Jack wondered.  His eyes narrowed.  __If that man so much as lays a hand on her . . . ._

"Sydney, why don't we all sit down, relax for a minute, and then calmly discuss this?" Weiss pleaded.

"Weiss, I know you've had a rough night, but just stay the hell out of this, okay?  You have no idea who you're talking about.  This is a guy who can alternately kill a man with his bare hands and yet still have time to torment civilians like Will!  He is not going anywhere _near another man in my life!" Sydney spat out, the venom in her voice quieting the two agents before her._

"Speaking of the men in your life," Weiss muttered as Vaughn looked at him, a mixture of confusion and shock on his face.  Weiss nodded his head in the direction of the gate, and Vaughn turned, his mouth dropping open.  Sydney was oblivious to the scene before her, still muttering about the incompetence of the Central Intelligence Agency.

"Hello, Sydney," came a low, gravelly voice from the shadows.  She turned around slowly, her surprised look mirroring Vaughn's.

As her mouth hung open, Jack stepped out of the shadows and merely smiled.  "Daddy's home."

************

"Mind over matter, man, mind over matter!" he muttered to himself.  "Mind over ma--aah, aah, achoo!" Will bellowed, stepping on a cat as he groped for the Kleenex box.  "Central _Intelligence Agency my ass," he said as he flopped back in his seat, a puff of cat hair irritating his already red eyes.  "Only the U.S. government would put me on a plane filled with cats when I'm severely allergic.  Damn government."_

Will tried to read the time from the clock on the other side of the cabin, but it was no use.  His allergic reaction was causing his eyes to swell and impair his vision.  Reluctantly, he raised his left arm, complete with the lone black cat, to his face so he could read the time.  Almost nine a.m.  _Wait a sec, he corrected himself, __that's L.A. time.  So it's . . . . Will stopped.  How was he supposed to know what time zone he was in anyway?  __Think, Will, think.  We're obviously not flying back over the U.S., because there's no way it has that much water.  So that means we're over the Atlantic.  And since the ocean is pretty wide . . . don't go there, Will, do NOT go there.  You can make it.  You are bigger and smarter than these damn cats, and you are not going to let them be the death of you.  Even if they make you want to . . . Achoo!  Achoo!  ACHOO!!!_

_Did I finally hit that inner circle of hell for reporters who go too far?  You know, I really should have paid attention that time Syd was explaining Dante--_

"Mr. Tippin?" British Dude said, walking through the curtain that separated the cabin into two parts.  "Is something wrong?"

_Don't be sarcastic, don't be sarcastic.  He's CIA, he's been trained in how to kill people like you.  Remember what Jack did to you?  And he's your best friend's father.  "Um," Will began, trying to find the right words, "I have this little allergy to cats.  I guess that's not in my file, huh?"  He tried to laugh it off, but it turned into another sneeze instead._

"Well, we most certainly apologize," British Dude said smoothly as he eyed the cabin.  "We are most fortunate, however, that one of our passengers is a physician. Have a seat, and I'll see if he can examine you."

Will was impressed when British Dude returned with a balding man who carried a black bag, just like doctors did on those old television shows he watched late at night when his dreams of Sydney got too vivid for comfort.  "What seems to be the problem?" the doctor boomed as he pulled out his stethoscope.

"In a nutshell?  I'm allergic to cats, and . . . ." he trailed off as he sneezed again, jerking his head towards the menagerie of cats in the cabin.

"Oh, no!" the doctor drawled.  For the first time, Will noticed his slight southern accent.  Strangely, in the midst of all of this craziness, he felt comforted by the older man with the wrinkled face; he reminded Will of his grandfather.  "Young man, I have just the thing to give you.  It's an antihistamine, so it should ease up your reaction to these cats, which, by the way, sir," he continued, turning to British Dude, "need to be removed from this part of the cabin to ensure that his breathing doesn't get affected at this altitude."  British Dude nodded slightly, then turned to call for someone to remove the cats.  _What's he gonna do, throw them out the window? Will wondered.  __Never mind.  I don't think I want to know._

"Don't you worry," the doctor said as he filled a syringe and wiped off Will's arm with rubbing alcohol.  "This should take your mind off your allergies in no time at all."

************

"Dad!" Sydney blurted out.  "What are you doing here?"

"Sydney, if you're memory is that troubled, maybe you should consider stepping down at the agency," Jack retorted.  As she stared at him, he held up his briefcase.  "Audio finally came back from Analysis."

"That's great," Vaughn said sincerely, hoping to deflect attention away from what had just transpired.  "Did you uncover anything?"

"Eventually, yes," he answered in a short voice.  Jack rested the briefcase on the table, shoving aside crumpled napkins and an open bottle of aspirin.  He removed the tape player and placed a cassette in the slot.

"Well?" Sydney prompted.

Jack stared at her for an instant, then turned to face Weiss.  "Agent Weiss, I heard about Pierson . . . Zoe.  I'm sorry."

"Th-thank you," Weiss stuttered as Jack faced the briefcase once more.  _Did he just apologize? Weiss mouthed to Vaughn._

_I think so, Vaughn mouthed back, a surprised expression on his face._

"After listening to all of Cassette 1 and the majority of Cassette 2, a disturbance was recorded which Agent Vaughn and I presumed was Mr. Tippin's abduction," Jack began.  "However, the audio was not functioning properly at this stage, so I took the cassette to headquarters for further analysis.  What we found was . . . disturbing.  You may not want to hear parts of this," he said as he looked at both Sydney and Weiss.

"Who?" the two chorused.

Jack paused, weighing his words.  "Both of you will find parts of this painful to listen to. I suggest you step outside when I ask."

The warehouse was silent for a few moments, then Jack spoke again.  "To give everyone a frame of reference, the enhanced audio begins just before you left the safe house, Sydney."

"Oh," she answered in a hollow voice.  _Please don't let the "I love you" be on there, she pleaded silently._

Jack pushed play as the three remaining CIA agents leaned forwards, grasping for clues.  

"You'll be safe here, I promise," Sydney heard herself say on the tape to Will.  "And if you need anything, there are . . . agents watching behind the mirror."  _What a joke, she thought.  __"You'll be safe here."_

The cassette made a noise, clicking off, then turned back on as Will's voice came through loud and clear.  "Hey, guys.  Is there a food situation?  Is there any chance I can get something to eat?  Like a burger or something?  I'm easy."

Sydney smiled. It was just so . . . Will.  He sounded fine, not like a man who was about to be . . . about to be . . . .

She jumped as the tape loudly clicked.  "Analysis went ahead and enhanced this section of the tape, even though it was unnecessary," Jack growled as the theme from _Jaws could be heard._

Vaughn winced.  It sounded even worse at this volume, although it did cause Weiss to crack a smile for about two seconds when he realized what Will was doing.

The four CIA agents heard another clicking noise, followed by a rap on a door.  "Oh, yeah. Thirty minutes or less," they heard Will say.  The amplified audio then indicated a door opening, followed by a gun shot.  Sydney gasped at the sound as Vaughn reached for her hand, Jack's eyes narrowing as he took in their intertwined fingers.

Jack abruptly hit the pause button on the tape player.  "Sydney, Mr. Weiss.  I suggest you leave the room.  Now," he said in a commanding voice.

"Dad, you just let me hear what sounds like Will being shot.  What could be worse than that?" Sydney questioned.

"Sydney, could you for once in your life just do as you are told?  Walk away now; spare yourself some grief.  And take Mr. Weiss with you."

Sydney looked back at Weiss, who shook his head.  She faced her father once more and told him, "We're not going anywhere."

"Syd," Vaughn groaned as he reached with his free hand for the aspirin bottle, only to find it empty.  "Damn," he muttered, noticing a few spilled capsules lying on the floor.

"Mr. Weiss, I urge you to reconsider," Jack said haltingly.  He walked towards him, crushing the capsules with his shoes, and Vaughn cursed.  "You don't know what is coming," Jack warned.

Realization was not long in coming. "I have to stay," he said softly.  "I just have to."

Understanding that further argument was pointless, Jack reluctantly relented.  "Thanks to the widespread microphones and the fact that the door separating the CIA agents from Mr. Tippin was open, we were able to recover a good deal of audio.  Once again, if anyone needs to leave . . . ." he trailed off and pushed play.

" . . . or less."  A gunshot.  This time the tape continued.  As the agents listened to a series of noises, Jack narrated.  "Analysis believes that the perpetrator is dragging Will at this point through the safe house door."  He paused, then continued.  "In a moment, you will hear the perpetrator speak.  I will wait until after you have heard the voice before telling you who Analysis suspects."

Vaughn, Weiss, and Sydney stared at each other, holding their breaths.  This was it--this would determine who they were looking for.

Suddenly there was a tapping noise, as if someone was ensuring that the microphone still worked.  _Sick bastard, Vaughn thought.  __He wants__ us to know who he is._

The irony, the three agents would remember later, was not the voice that broke the silence, but the words he used, words that continued to haunt them.  _How had he known?_

"Joey's Pizza."

************

Thousands of miles a way, a certain young reporter slumped in his seat as a calico cat walked across his face.

"Excellent work," a man with a British accent could be heard saying.  "Your choice of accents was inspired."

"Well," a second man drawled, "it just goes to show how important research is!"  The man laughed a cold, sinister laugh.  "I couldn't believe how easily he bought it," he continued with a sneer, all traces of the Southern accent gone.  "He really is a fool!"

"And he's in our possession now," the first man said, a hint of a smile coming through in his voice.  He chuckled.  "Let the games begin."

************


	6. Part 5

**A huge "muchas gracias" to everyone who has commented!  We appreciate it.  But if you want to see more in the next few days . . . you know what you need to do.  g  And trust me, you want to see the next part.  eg**

**Thanks as always to our betas!  For disclaimers, etc., see the A/N at the beginning.**

**~~~~~~~~**

"You don't mean--?"

"I'm going to kill him!"

"Sark?!?"

Jack looked at the three agents and nodded.  "Yes, it appears that Mr. Sark is our abductor and murderer.  Further analysis confirmed our suspicions."  

"Is that the end of the tape?" Vaughn asked as the tape remained silent.

"Well," Jack began, before another click could be heard.  He reached for the stop button, but Sydney pushed his hand away. 

"Hey, Parker! Whatcha doin', sleeping on the job?" a lilting voice asked on the tape.  Weiss and Vaughn gasped. 

Zoe.

"Anyway, I just came back because I left my car keys in here on the table . . . Parker? Parker?" The voice was frantic now.  "Parker! Wake up!  What's wrong with you?  Where's Johansson?" 

The sound of something falling could be heard.  "Analysis indicates Pierson--Zoe--tried to resuscitate Parker," Jack said, continuing his role of narrator of this nightmare.

"Come on, Parker, come on!" Zoe urged.  "One, two, three . . . " a rush of air was heard.  "Parker, you are not going to die on me!  Come on, one, two, three . . . ."  Another rush of air.

"Oh, God, Parker, who did this to you?" she said sadly.  "What kind of monster found his way here after I left--? Oh, God," Zoe gasped.

Weiss cringed.

"Are they still here?" she whispered in the stillness.

_Click. _

Jack stared at Weiss, trying to gauge his emotional stability.  "There's more," he said slowly. "But since it's not pertinent to the investigation, I think we should move on to the intel I have received.   Apparently Sark--" 

"What do you mean, there's more?" Weiss asked angrily.  "Do you have her whole damn murder on tape?"

"Eric, I really don't think you want to know the answer to that question," Vaughn interjected as he released his hold of Sydney's hand and stood in front of his friend.

"Dammit, yes, I do!" Weiss screamed.  "It's sick, I know, but I have to know.  My imagination's been killing me the last few hours, how he did it.  Please," he turned to Jack, "just get it over with.  Finish the tape."

Jack surveyed the scene before him, unsure of himself for the first time since he got pulled out of bed in the middle of the night.  He finally turned to Sydney, whose eyes shone with tears.  She looked at him and nodded.

"All right," he said gruffly.  He moved in front of the machine, his finger poised over the fast forward button, hoping to go past the worst part.

"I said play the damn tape," Weiss said as he shoved Jack's hand away from the machine.  He pushed play and Jack moved to sit down where Vaughn had sat minutes earlier beside Sydney.  Vaughn stood next to Weiss, prepared to catch him if he passed out from whatever was still on the tape.

Ten minutes later, Vaughn was praying that the tape would run out, that the microphone would go dead--anything.   Anything but more of this gruesome tale.

Jack glanced at Weiss, concerned for the young agent.  He knew what it was like to lose the woman you loved, to have her ripped away from you.  _But at least this woman wasn't a traitor, he mentally retorted.  __But did that matter when the police showed up at your doorstep? Weren't you still dying on the inside at her funeral, even when you knew__ who she was? he mentally argued._

Jack let out a deep breath he didn't even know he was holding.  _This isn't about you, this is about Tippin. And Weiss.  And Pierson.  Not you.   Jack turned his attention back to the tape recorder, the wheels of the cassette slowly turning._

_Or is this about you too? he wondered._

Jack tuned back in as the drama slowly unfolded.

"No, please, not a needle," Zoe begged.

"She's terrified of needles," Weiss cried out in the warehouse.  The tears that had been building began to fall.  "Oh, Zoe . . . ."

 "No, please don't, no, no," Zoe trailed off, then let out a blood-curdling scream as several men laughed.

A scuffle could be heard in the background, then Sark yelled, "Let her go.  She won't go far."

This time, the tape clicked off on its own.

************

He had wanted to listen to the tape.

Insisted on it.

Now he wished he'd taken Jack's advice.

Because now he felt like purging himself of anything that might be left in his stomach from last night's quick run for a burger and fries. Now he realized that it was better not to know exactly what had transpired in the safe house before he got there. Now he realized that ignorance could be bliss.

Instead he had the truth. The miserable, painful truth.

And it was killing him.

The other occupants of the warehouse were not faring much better than him.  Vaughn had more wrinkles in his forehead than Weiss had ever seen before, even on the most stressful days as Sydney's handler.  At some point while they were listening to the tape, Sydney had unconsciously grabbed Jack's hand and was now clutching it as if it were a life preserver that would bring her back to shore.  Jack stared straight ahead, his eyes devoid of emotion, yet gripping his daughter's hand for the first time in God-knows how long.  His eyes blinked, betraying his emotions for a second, and Weiss understood.  _That could have been __Sydney__. _

The four CIA agents sat silently in the warehouse, each lost in thought, for several minutes when suddenly the door to the warehouse clicked.  Jack cleared his throat and turned to face them. "I suggest you pull yourselves together," Jack advised.  "We have company."

"Good morning, Jack," Devlin said as he walked into the interior of the warehouse with Davenport.  "Ah. Vaughn, Weiss, Bristow," he nodded.  "Thank you for meeting here on such short notice."

"I didn't know there _was a meeting," Weiss muttered to Vaughn, who nodded slightly in agreement. _

"Has everyone listened to the tape, Jack?" Davenport asked. 

"We reviewed the pertinent parts," was his cryptic response.  Jack never made anything easy.

"Our intel indicates that Sark and his team boarded a private plane at LAX bound for Newark.  We suspect they will try to leave the country from there." 

"Did they have Will?" Sydney asked anxiously.

"It's hard to tell.  It was a group of men, although there was one who seems to match Will's description," Devlin answered. 

"Before we continue, you need to know that what is discussed here does not leave this warehouse.  No one else at the agency can know about this," Davenport said gravely.  "We obviously have a mole; otherwise the safe house would not have been compromised.  For your safety and for the safety of the agency, we have to keep this quiet.  Agreed?"

"Agreed," Vaughn and Sydney answered in unison.  Weiss just nodded, afraid that his voice would crack if he attempted speech.  Jack apparently was so invincible he did not need to voice his agreement; Davenport merely continued.

"We have arranged for all four of you to fly to Newark on a search and rescue mission," Davenport continued.  "From Newark you will be escorted to a safe house and informed of any new intel we have on their whereabouts.  You will all have new passports to take with you, should you need to travel overseas."

"Where are the passports?" Jack asked.

"We're still finishing them up," Devlin answered.  "Someone will need to come pick them up in an hour or so.  We have created a new alias for each of you, so Sark and his team will be unable to track you using any of your other aliases.  Any questions?"

"What color do I have to dye my hair this time?" Sydney asked quietly.  To most, it would have been more of a joke than a question; unfortunately, in her world of espionage it was crucial.

"No hair dye this time, Agent Bristow," Davenport said crisply. 

"Good."

"Will we be traveling together or separately?" Jack asked.

"For now, you're all on the same flight but sitting in different sections.  I was able to get two seats together, so I took the liberty of booking them for you, Jack, and Sydney.  I thought that was wise," Devlin replied, Jack nodding his assent. 

"When does the flight leave?" Vaughn wanted to know. 

"Not until two o'clock.  It was the best we could do on such short notice," Devlin apologized.  "But it is a direct flight, so you should be there by seven." 

"Which is eleven Eastern time," Weiss muttered, rubbing his eyes.  "Sark's not gonna hang around waiting for us to catch up."

"As I said, it's the best we can do.  Sark potentially has a twelve hour lead on us already; waiting a few more hours for a plane will not destroy us," Devlin pointed out.  "Besides, there are some loose ends that must be tied up before you leave.  Jack, have you given any thought to what you're going to tell Sloane?" 

"I have an idea," Jack said, still holding Sydney's hand.  "But it's a collaborative effort."

"What is it, Dad?" Sydney asked.

 Jack looked at her.  She nodded. 

"I'm going to use Sloane's . . . 'concern' . . . against him," Jack stated matter-of-factly.  "It appears that a certain high-ranking SD-6 agent and his rising talent daughter need to get away from it all."

Sydney blinked.  It was so simple, especially coming from Jack Bristow's twisted mind.  But that, she realized, was the brilliance behind the plan.  No one at SD-6 would suspect otherwise.

Especially Arvin Sloane.

************

"Do you need anything, Emily?"

Emily looked up, seeing her husband standing in the doorway.  Flashing him a weak, but happy, smile, she shook her head.  "No.  I think I can manage putting a few things back into a bag.  Do you want to see if you can find Dr. Levin so I can get out of here?"

Sloane smiled at his wife.  "Certainly.  You're sure you don't need any help?"

"Arvin, stop hovering."  Emily let her head drop.  She hadn't meant to snap at him.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean that."

"I know," he replied quietly.  "But you're sure you don't need some help?  It probably isn't wise to overdo it."

"I'm not completely incapacitated, you know.  And I don't think this," she indicated the clothes she was putting in her overnight case, "would qualify as 'over-doing it'.  Now go find the doctor so I can go home."

Sloane nodded and turned to leave, surprised when the door opened into him.   He took a step back as the door pushed against him and was shocked when he saw the man who was now standing before him.

"Arvin."

"Gabriel," Sloane stated as he reached out to shake his hand.

Gabriel Trudeau grasped Sloane's hand, before turning to Emily.  "Emily.  I heard the great news.  When do you get to go home?" 

"As soon as Arvin leaves me long enough to go find the doctor."

Trudeau looked guilty.  "Well, his searching for your doctor might have to wait a moment, I'm afraid.  I need to speak with him."

Emily smiled.  "Just don't keep him long.  I want to get out of here," she replied eagerly.

"I promise.  Arvin, shall we?" he asked as he waited for Sloane to precede him from the room.

Arvin walked over to his wife's bed.  Leaning over slightly, he gently kissed her.  "I'll be back in a few minutes.  If you need anything..."

"Arvin..."

Sloane placed his fingers over her lips, silencing her.  "If you need anything, please call for a nurse.  Promise me, Emily."

"Will it get me out of here sooner?" she asked playfully.

"Yes."

"Then I promise.  If I need any help, I'll ask for it.  Now go."

Sloane relented and finally followed Trudeau silently from the room.  Walking down the hall, he wasn't surprised to find he was being led to the conference room.  

He waited only until Trudeau had taken a seat before he asked the question that had been bothering him from the moment the door had hit him as it abruptly opened.  "What is this about, Gabriel?"

"I'm sorry to come here with this news, Arvin.  Alain would have preferred to do this himself, but he was unavoidably detained in Lisbon."

Sloane shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  "What news?"

"As you might have guessed, we've been informed of the change in Emily's condition.  Unfortunately, this changes things."

"Changes what?"

"Arvin, please.  Understand that we know what Emily's remission means to you both.  But she still has knowledge of SD-6.  The agreement was that the Alliance would allow Emily to live for whatever time remained before the cancer took her life.  With her cancer entering remission, we can't allow her to live."

"And if I refuse to let you kill her?"

"I think you know the futility of that position.  As it stands, the other members of the Alliance have agreed to give you one week to decide what you wish to do.  To decide where your allegiance lies."

"One week to decide something that you have already decided?  My, how generous of you," Sloane replied sarcastically.

"Arvin, you know the rules.  You followed them when Agent Bristow made the mistake of telling her fiancé.  Your wife is no different."

"She is my wife.  And that does make a difference," he argued. 

"It is of no concern of ours.  You know what you must do.  You have one week," Trudeau stated as he stood to leave.  Reaching the door he turned back to look at Sloane.  "Don't disappoint us."

Sloane watched Trudeau leave.  He hadn't been totally surprised by an Alliance member's arrival, but he wished it hadn't been so soon.  He got up from the chair, feeling suddenly tired.  Turning off the lights as he exited the room, he went in search of Dr. Levin.

************

Vaughn closed his front door and leaned against it.  _What a morning.  He felt like a lifetime had passed since he had crawled out of bed to answer Weiss's middle of the night call. _

He hadn't wanted to leave Eric alone, but they needed to split up to get everything accomplished before their plane took off.  After dropping him off at Zoe's to pick up his car, Vaughn drove home, the sunlight hurting his eyes as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. 

Stuffing his keys in his pocket, he walked to the bedroom and opened the closet door.  He grabbed a handful of clothes and tossed them on the bed.  He was returning to the closet when the phone rang.

There were two calls he was expecting.  And as much as he needed to talk to Jack Bristow to set their plan in motion, he was hoping it was the other call. 

"Hello?" Vaughn grabbed the receiver as he pulled his suitcase out of the closet. 

"Well, it was nice to hear your voice on _my answering machine for a change," a woman retorted on the other end of the line. _

Vaughn broke out into a smile.  "Hey, Mom.  Thanks for calling me back so soon," he said.  "Where were you?"

"Can't a grown woman have a life?" Marie Vaughn teased, then relented.  "Mass, of course.  Don't you remember what day of the week it is anymore, Michael?" 

"Oh, that's right, it's still Sunday," Vaughn muttered to himself.

"_Still  Sunday? Has it been that bad already?" she asked, amused. _

"You don't even want to know.  Look, Mom, can I ask you something?" Vaughn said, returning to the reason for the call. 

"As in, 'can I beg for a favor?'"

"Um, yeah," Vaughn admitted.  "I've gotta leave in a few hours on a business trip.  Could you keep your favorite grandchild at your place for a few days?"  He unzipped the suitcase and peered inside.  _That's where my lucky shirt is!_

"Stop referring to Donovan as my favorite grandchild," Marie chided.  "He is a dog, not a human being.  I'm still waiting on those real, human grandchildren, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, wishing he hadn't brought up such a sore spot between them.  _And here comes the lecture . . . . _

"I don't understand why you can't meet a nice lady.  It's not like you live in the middle of nowhere, dear.  After all, I'm not getting any younger, and I want to be able to enjoy my grandchildren." 

"I know, Mom, I know," he said, grabbing socks and throwing them into the suitcase.  "But for now, can you watch Donovan for a few days?"

Marie sighed.  "I suppose," she said finally.  "Where are you going?"

"New York.  Just some routine business," he lied. 

"Okay, but be careful. I don't want you to get hurt because of your job," she said as a worried tone entered her voice. 

"Mom, don't worry.  I'll be fine," Vaughn insisted, hoping he was telling the truth. 

"All right," Marie acquiesced.  "There is at least one good thing about this trip though."

"What?"

"Maybe you'll meet someone."

************


	7. Part 6

Sydney juggled her purse and a bag of pastries as she tried to slip her key into the lock.  When the keys fell out of her hand and to the ground, she could feel the tears of frustration, anger, and sorrow welling up once more. 

Swiping furiously at her eyes, she leaned over and picked up her keys.  She took several deep breaths before placing the key in the lock and opening the door.

"Francie?  You up?" she called out, trying to sound upbeat, surprised by her success.  

"Thank God, you're finally home.  I thought I was going to have to leave you a note," Francie called from her bedroom.

"Why?" Sydney called back as she walked into the kitchen and placed the bag of croissants on the counter.  

"I have to go up to the lake," she began, stopping when she spotted the bag.  "Oh!  Did you get the ones with the chocolate-cinnamon filling?"

Sydney smiled, the first genuine smile so far that hideous morning.  "Yeah, I did."  Taking the still warm pastry she was being offered, she took a bite.  "So why do you have to go to the lake?" she asked.

Francie took a bite of her croissant and leaned back against the counter.  It was sinful, rich, and absolute heaven.  She swallowed.  "These are divine.  It reminds me of the time when..." Francie continued as Sydney stared into space.

"Um, Syd?  Earth to Sydney," Francie called.

Sydney jumped.  _Focus.  She smiled weakly.  "Sorry," she said sheepishly.  Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she walked to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of milk.  "So why do you have to go to the lake?" she asked._

Francie shook her head.  Sometimes, talking to Sydney was like talking to a wall.  "Dad was out on the dock and there was a loose board.  His foot went through and when he tried to stop himself from falling, he twisted in the opposite direction and broke his ankle.  Then when he landed on the ground, he did so awkwardly and broke his arm as well."

"Is he going to be ok?"

Francie laughed.  "Yeah, but he's already driving Mom nuts.  It's his left ankle and right arm so mobility is an issue.  You know what they say about doctors making the worst patients?"

Sydney nodded.  She did indeed.  

"Well my dad is the reason that particular phrase was coined," she laughed, popping the remainder of the croissant in her mouth.  "I told Mom that I'd drive up this afternoon."

Francie swallowed the last bit of croissant, an idea popping into her head.  "Hey, why don't you come with me?  I mean you don't have a trip or anything, right?"

Sydney stared at her friend.  Why couldn't her life be about simple choices?  "Actually, I might be going out of town."

"What?  Where are they sending you this time?"

"It's not really a bank trip.  And I'm not even sure I'm going anywhere."

"Ohhh.  Is Sydney going out of town with someone new she hasn't told me about?"

Sydney was dumbfounded.  "No.  Why would you think that?"

Francie stood there for a moment.  What wasn't Sydney telling her?  Suddenly, it hit her.  "Oh My God.  It's Picture Frame Guy, isn't it?  You're going out of town with him?"

"Who?" she asked as she took a drink of her milk.

"You know, the guy from work who gave you the picture frame at Christmas that you keep saying wasn't a big deal, but then I catch you just holding it while you stare off into space.  He finally asked you out, didn't he?" she asked coyly, nudging Sydney's shoulder as she did.

Sydney choked on her milk, the guilty expression frozen on her face.  When Francie looked at her, she started laughing.  Trying to regain her composure, she shouted, "Fran!  Stop laughing!"

"Lighten up, Syd!  I'm just kidding," she answered, still laughing.

She could feel the blush spreading across her face.  Yes, she was going on a trip and yes, Vaughn would be there, but it wasn't that kind of a trip.  Not that she'd mind that kind of a trip.  _What the...?  Where the hell did that__ come from? she wondered, knowing, with that thought, her face had turned a deeper shade of crimson._

Looking back at Francie, she became even more embarrassed when her friend just pointed at her and doubled over, laughing even harder.  If that was possible.

"Um, Francie, what time do you have to leave?" Sydney asked, trying to change the subject.

Francie was still doubled over, although the laughter was slowing.  Preferring to continue looking at the floor, rather than at Sydney for fear that she'd start all over again, Francie was finally able to answer her.  "I'm just about ready to leave now.  All I have to do is put the suitcase in my car and grab a couple of CDs for the drive up."

"Do you need any help?"

Francie finally stood back up, taking a deep, slow breath as she did.  When she looked at Sydney, whose face was still beet red, she almost started laughing again, but she was able to refrain herself.  "Nah.  I can manage."  

Patting Sydney's shoulder, a small chuckle escaped.  "I think I'll just go get them now and be on my way."

Sydney remained where she was, nodding her assent as Francie left the room.  Taking her glass to the sink, she almost dropped it when she heard Francie start laughing again.  The blush that had started to go down came back full force.  She rinsed the glass out slowly, taking several calming breaths as she did.

Walking to her room, she poked her head through Francie's door.  "I'm gonna pack just in case I do have to go.  If I do, I'll call and leave a message on your cell."

Francie didn't even raise her head.  "Ok."

"Ok, then.  I'll see you in a few days.  Hope your dad feels better soon."

"Thanks, Syd.  And if you have to go anywhere, I hope it's a good trip."

_Me too, Sydney thought as she went into her room and got her small suitcase out of her closet.  _

************

Francie dragged her bag through the living room and placed it by the door.  "Hey Syd, do you mind if I take the rest of the croissants with me?  Mom and Dad love these."

"Sure.  Just leave me one on the counter, ok?" Sydney called from her room.

"Ok," Francie shouted back as she pulled one of them out of the bag, placing it on a napkin.

Seeing Sydney's purse sitting beside the bag, a wild idea ran through Francie's head.  Running back into her room, she rummaged through a drawer, finally finding the item she'd been looking for.

Going back to the living room, she grabbed Sydney's purse, opened it, and dumped the remaining contents of the box inside.  Moving things around a bit, she covered the packets so that Sydney wouldn't find them.  _Well, not immediately, she thought wickedly.  _

Putting the purse back where she found it, Francie stuffed the empty box in the bottom of the trash.  She grabbed her keys off the counter and tried to think if she was forgetting anything.  Realizing she hadn't, she walked to the door, picked up her suitcase and opened the door.  "Hey Syd, I'm going now."

Sydney moved out into the hall.  "Drive carefully.  Tell your Mom and Dad I said hi."

"Sure thing.  Let me know if you go out of town."

Sydney smiled.  "I will.  See ya," she replied, waving goodbye and heading back inside her room.

Francie walked outside and closed the door behind her.  Smiling mischievously, she dropped the bag in the trunk and got in the car.  She hoped Sydney did indeed have a good trip.

************

Weiss walked into his apartment and slammed the door behind him.  Shaking his head, he tried to push the memories of what he had seen and heard out of his mind, finding that it was impossible.

Grabbing a suitcase from the hall closet, he went into his bedroom and threw it on the partially made bed as he thought about the _simple task that Vaughn had left up to him.  ****_

_"Eric," Vaughn explained when they reached Zoe's so Weiss could pick up his car, "it will only take five minutes.  I can't do it.  I have to try and coerce my mom to take Donovan and if she agrees, I have to take him over there.  I can't stop by the office and pick up the passports.  Besides, it's on the way to your apartment."_

Yeah, that simple five-minute task had taken him almost 20 minutes all because of Haladki.  At the thought of that _jackass, he threw the passports in the bottom of the case before he began angrily piling his clothes on top of them._

Stalking into the bathroom, he grabbed his razor, toothbrush, and comb and went back and tossed them on top of his haphazardly packed clothes.

He looked around the room, trying to decide if he was forgetting anything, then decided it wouldn't really matter.  Wherever they were going, he was sure he'd be able to buy whatever it was that he'd left behind.

Closing and locking his suitcase, he dragged it out into the living room, depositing it by the door.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed a Coke out of the refrigerator and took a long swallow.  He needed caffeine.  He knew he'd probably get some sleep on the plane, if for no other reason than sheer exhaustion.  It certainly wouldn't be because he was looking forward to pleasant dreams.  No, those wouldn't come to him any time soon.  Not now.

Without even realizing what he was doing, he grabbed the yo-yo off the counter and began playing with it while he waited for Vaughn to arrive.  He was making a cat's cradle as he wandered through the apartment when the phone rang.

_This had better be Mike.  "Hello?"_

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, Mom," he replied, his voice flat.

"I--I didn't wake you up, did I?  Or, um, disrupt anything?" she asked worriedly.

"No, Mom, trust me, you didn't disrupt anything," he answered as her meaning hit home.  "Just waiting for Mike to pick me up.  We have to fly out on business this afternoon."

"I suppose you forgot you were coming over for dinner tonight," his mother pointed out.  "It's been six weeks since you've been here, Eric."

"Sorry, Mom," he said in a voice that said he wasn't at all sorry.

"And it's been even longer since I saw Zoe.  How's she doing?" she asked.

Weiss gulped.

"Please tell me she's not encouraging your silly yo-yo habit anymore," she continued.  The cat's cradle crashed to the ground as his mouth opened wide, a silent scream coming from his lips.

"Eric?  Dear, are you alright?" 

His mother's words rang in his ears.  "I'm fine, Mom," he lied.  "It was just a really long night."

"Well, you be sure to tell Zoe that she's more than welcome to come over tonight, with or without you," his mother said as Weiss's head began to pound.  "Do you want me to call her?"

"Um, no, don't call her," he said.  _Oh my god.  Will this nightmare ever end?_

"I don't think she would feel comfortable," he simply said.  "I'll just tell her our plans have changed."

"Eric, I'm not _that bad, am I?" she asked nervously.  "I mean, I really __do like her.  Besides," she added, "we could spend tonight looking through all of your baby pictures.  Maybe I can convince __her that I need grandchildren.  What do you think?"_

Eric felt like she had just shoved a hot knife in his chest and was slowly twisting it around.  How could he tell her that they had actually discussed it, once or twice late at night when they were snuggled next to each other?  Now there would be no more discussions of the future.  There would be no children with her eyes and her smile.  He swallowed hard._  "Mom, look, I've gotta go, okay? I'll call you when I get back," he said hurriedly, trying to keep his voice from wavering._

"Fine," she said in a resigned voice.  "I love you."

"Love you too.  'Bye Mo--"

"Oh, Eric!"

"Yes?"

"Forget the message I left on your machine, okay?  I was just asking about dinner tonight, that's all."

"When did you call?"

"Oh, sometime last night.  I think it was around ten o'clock, because the early news was coming on as I left the message.  Why?"

"Nothing.  I just forgot to check the machine," he mumbled.

"Have a safe trip," his mother chirped.

"Thanks.  'Bye, Mom."

"'Bye."

Weiss held the receiver for a few minutes before hanging up the phone.  The answering machine.  They already knew that Sark was sadistic enough to make sure the microphones were working before he spoke, they knew that Sark knew Vaughn's code phrase for his meetings with Sydney--could Sark have left something on his machine?

Weiss rushed to the living room and picked up the answering machine, a red "5" blinking at him.  With a shaking hand, he pressed "Play."

"Five messages.  Message one, received at 7:35 p.m.," the mechanical voice said.

"Hey, Mr. Leave A Message After The Beep.  I just wanted to let you know that I work for the world's biggest jackass.  First thing Monday morning I'm making Devlin transfer me so you can be my boss.  You think he'd go for that?  Yeah, probably not.  Okay, I'll see you later.  I love you!"

_Zoe.  She mentioned when she left the office that she had left a message on his machine at home before she realized he was still buried in work.  He had forgotten about it until now._

He hit the "save" button and continued.

"Message two, received at 8:19 p.m."

"Hello, you have been pre-approved for a credit card at our all-new low rate of 18.9%," a computerized voice said.  "We will call you again in the next 48 hours.  Thank you and have a nice day."

He rolled his eyes and quickly hit "delete."

"Message three, received at 8:42 p.m."

"Hey, me again.  Just wanted to say that I hope you finish your work soon, because there's this Victoria's Secret bag in my car that is just dying to make its way into your bedroom."  He could hear the smile in her voice, the slight giggle as she teased him.  "So hurry home--it'll be worth your while."  Pause.  "Damn, there's jackass again.  Gotta go.  Love ya!"

Once again, he hit the "save" button and continued.

"Message four, received at 9:58 p.m."

"Eric, it's your mom.  I** guess you're out with Zoe tonight--" He quickly hit "delete."**

"Message five, received at 10:02 p.m."

"Hey, me again.  Sorry about all the messages tonight.  Just tried the office and you're not answering that phone or your cell.  I hope you've finally finished all of that paperwork for Devlin."

Weiss stared at the machine in horror.  _10:02???  Oh my God, this has to be right before . . . before . . . ._

"I must have been in Archives," he said out loud in the empty room.  "Why didn't I take my cell with me?" he said angrily.

"Anyway, just wanted to let you know about a change in plans.  I'll meet you at your place tonight, okay?  It seems only fair since you've spent so many nights at my place.  And I know you'll be tired after the last few days at the office, so you'll probably sleep better in your own bed.  Well," she amended with a giggle, "once I let you go to sleep, that is."****

He held the answering machine in his hands, his face inches from the speaker, straining to hear her voice.

"I'm going to assume that you're on your way home but playing your music too loudly to hear your cell ring.  If I get there first, I'll let myself in and put that Victoria's Secret bag to use . . . damn," she muttered.

_Uh-oh._

"Sorry about that, Eric," she apologized.  "I'm outside the safe house--don't know if I mentioned that before.  I was all set to leave when jackass made me copy more stuff for his pointless Monday morning meeting that no one attends.  But I promise, I was a very careful girl," she ended on a teasing note.  "No bad guys in sight, just a silly woman who must have left her car keys inside and is now locked out of her car.  Crap.  Johansson and Parker are never going to let me live this down...  Oh well.  I'll say good-bye for now, since I can't get a signal inside and I'm sure your machine is going to cut me off in a second anyway.  I love you!  Hurry home!" she teased.  The message clicked off, and Weiss jumped into action, repeatedly hitting the "save" button.

As he sank to the ground, the answering machine cradled in his hands, he wondered if his heart would ever feel whole again.

He was still sitting there, tears streaming down his face, when Vaughn burst through the front door.

"Eric, where the hell are you?  You've gotta remember to keep your cell phone on--" he stopped short.  "Eric?  Are you okay?"  _Good one, Mike.  Of course he's not okay--he's just been to hell and back._

Weiss remained silent as he wiped his eyes.

"The cab's waiting," Vaughn said.

Weiss stood up and returned the answering machine to its resting place.  He carefully removed the cassette as if it were the most precious, most fragile thing he'd ever touched.  Placing it in his front pocket, he grabbed another tape from the package next to the machine and put it in, closing the lid when he finished.

"I have the passports and tickets," he told his friend.  His gaze hardened.

"Let's go get that bastard."

************


	8. Part 7

Thanks for the comments—we appreciate them! g

For disclaimers, etc., please see the A/N at the beginning.

~~~~~~~~

Sydney zipped her pilot's case and set it on the floor before manoeuvering it just outside her bedroom door.  She glanced at her watch and let out a startled cry.  11:00 a.m.  She'd forgotten that she was supposed to be at Dixon's for brunch.  _Damn it!  And she'd already eaten something.  _

Running back into her room, she quickly changed into a nice pair of slacks and a sleeveless sweater.  Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she dabbed a bit of makeup on and declared herself as presentable as she was going to get.

Running through the living room, she grabbed her CIA cell phone, her purse, and her keys off the counter and was about to run out the door as the cordless phone in the kitchen rang.

She dashed back through the living room and reached over the counter to grab the phone from its charger.  "Hello?" she answered breathlessly.

"Hey, Sydney."  

_Dixon__.  "Hey, Dixon.  I was just on my way out the door."_

"So you are still coming for brunch then?  Diane was getting a little worried.  I told her you wouldn't forget, but she wouldn't believe me."

Sydney chuckled.  "No, I didn't forget.  I'm just running late as usual.  What is it about Sundays that just make you want to sleep in?"

Now it was Dixon's turn to laugh.  "You're young.  Trust me, when you get older, and the kids are screaming and ramming around at 7:30 in the morning, you'll _wish you could remember what it was like to sleep in."_

"Been up for awhile then, have you?"

Dixon snickered.  "How could you guess?"  He paused for a moment.  _The fact that his two screaming children could be heard in the background couldn't possibly have given that away...  "Forget I asked.  I'm just going to hang up so you can get over here before Diane burns the food."_

"Like that would ever happen," Sydney joked.  Diane was an excellent cook, something Dixon reminded her every time he'd ever eaten _her cooking.  "Ok, I'm on my way.  I should be there in about 10 minutes.  Bye, Dixon."_

"See ya soon, Syd.  Bye."

Replacing the phone, Sydney ran out the still open door and locked it behind her.  Hurrying to her car, she slid behind the wheel and left, wondering how things were going at Sloane's.

************

"Why don't you go on inside, Emily.  I'll bring your bag in."

Emily nodded as she got out of the car, looking around at the flowers and shrubs that lined the drive.  While she'd been in the hospital, she'd feared for the safety of her garden and flowers, but it appeared that Arvin had taken very good care of them.  Or, more likely, he'd hired someone to take care of them in her place.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll just go sit in the garden.  I've missed it," she replied as she turned to her husband.

Sloane watched her carefully.  She looked tired, but no more so than she had been at the hospital.  "Fine.  Would you like me to bring you a glass of tea or something?"

She smiled at him.  "Tea would be nice.  And maybe we could even have an early supper out on the patio?" Emily suggested.

"We'll see." 

Emily surprised her husband by wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly before kissing him.  Pulling back slightly, she smiled again.  "Thank you."

"Well, you're welcome, but what was that for?" Sloane asked as he held Emily in his embrace.

"Arvin, I don't think I could have made it through any of this without you.   I don't think I would have wanted to," she answered, kissing his cheek lightly.

Before he had a chance to reply, or even think about what she'd said, they were interrupted by a car pulling into the drive.

Jack got out of the car, still questioning the soundness of his own plan, knowing that it wouldn't matter.  This was their only chance.  

"Emily," he stated as he walked up, giving her a quick hug.  "Should you be out of the hospital?"

Emily was beaming.  "Arvin must not have had a chance to tell you.  The latest tests show that I'm going into remission," she stated happily.

Jack clasped his hands before him, a genuine smile spreading across his face.  "That's wonderful news.  I'm happy for you both.  And I know Sydney will be as well."  The smile disappeared as he turned to Sloane.  "I wish now that I didn't have to interrupt your homecoming, but I'm afraid I must borrow your husband for a few minutes.  I need to talk to him about something and, unfortunately, I don't think it can wait."

Emily stepped away from her husband.  "Go ahead, dear.  I'm just going to the garden.  Join me after you're done." 

Sloane watched as Emily started walking around to the back of the house.  "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Emily turned back and waved.  "It was good seeing you, Jack.  The next time you see or talk to Sydney, would you please go ahead and tell her the wonderful news?  And tell her I'd love for her to stop by when she gets the chance."

"I will.  And Emily, it's wonderful to see you looking so well."

Emily grinned before turning and continuing to the garden.

Sloane waited until she was out of sight before facing Jack.  "What is this about, Jack?"

"I would prefer to do this inside."

Sloane glanced down the path Emily had taken.  "Certainly," he replied, picking up Emily's bag and heading towards the house.

Jack followed silently, going over exactly what he was about to say.  He'd been trying to gauge Sloane's emotional state and realized that it was going to be easier to play him than he had originally planned.  He was almost disappointed.  Almost.

Walking into the house, he continued to follow Sloane, who led Jack to his office.  Once inside, Sloane moved to the bar, pouring himself a rather large scotch.  Jack surreptitiously looked at his watch--11:13 a.m.  _Interesting.  As he sank into a chair, he watched Sloane down his first drink before pouring another._

Turning to Jack, he gestured towards the decanter.  "Can I offer you something?"

"Thank you, but no.  I really don't want to keep you away from Emily any longer than necessary."

Jack watched as Sloane took a large gulp of his second drink at the mention of Emily's name.  "Arvin, is everything ok?  I mean, I thought Emily's coming home would be welcomed.  By both of you."

Sloane finished off the second drink quickly before setting the glass back on the table next to the decanter.  "Trudeau came to see me at the hospital before I brought Emily home," he stated quietly, staring at the floor.

"Oh," Jack responded, his voice tight.  "They know about Emily's remission."

Sloane walked over and took a chair opposite Jack.  "Yes."  Gripping the arms of the chair, he leaned forward.  "Jack, what did you want to see me about?  You said it couldn't wait."

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  "I'm sure you've noticed that my relationship with Sydney has been strained since she began looking for her mother."

Sloane nodded.  "What is it you think I can do for you?"

Jack took a deep breath.  "I realize that you just gave Sydney a few days off, but I would like to take her somewhere to try and make her understand the futility of this quest of hers."

"I see."

Jack moved closer to the edge of his chair, not really having to play at being a little desperate.  "No, I don't think you do.  When Sydney found out what I really did for a living, she wouldn't even look at me.  Then, it seemed as if she slowly understood that I'd kept my distance only to protect her.  We weren't close, not by any means, but we were working towards a mutual understanding.  And since she found out about her mother, all that's changed."

Jack stopped momentarily, trying to judge if he should continue or just let it rest for a moment.  The expression on Sloane's face told him he needed to keep going.  "After seeing what you've gone through with Emily, it's made me realize that I want, no, that I _need some sort of relationship with my daughter.  And Sydney's search for her mother is jeopardizing that."_

Sloane tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  He'd never seen Jack this close to the edge.  He'd known that Sydney's search was going to have an effect on Jack; he just hadn't thought it would be this profound.  "Do you really think you will be able to stop her?"

"I don't know," Jack said quietly as he slouched back in the chair, resigned.  "All I know is that if I don't do something soon to end this madness, it will destroy us both."

Sloane stood up from the chair, walking back to the bar, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder as he passed by.  "Do you think that by doing this, by taking Sydney away for a few days, that you'll be able to function at your full capacity once again?"

Jack cringed.  "I think it might help me regain my focus, yes."

The decanter lightly tapping the glass could be heard in the silence.  "How much time do you think you will need?"

Jack closed his eyes.  It was almost over.  "Maybe a week."

Sloane almost choked on his scotch.  _A week.__  Such a short amount of time.  Not nearly enough time, he thought as Trudeau's words echoed in his mind.  Maybe Jack had the right idea.  Maybe he should take Emily somewhere as well.  "Fine."_

Jack let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  "Thank you," he stated as he stood from the chair.  "I should let you get back to Emily."

Sloane merely nodded as he took another drink.

"Please give Emily my best, and tell her I'm sorry for interrupting her homecoming."

"Yes, I will."  Sloane continued to nurse the drink he held in his hands.  

"I'll show myself out," Jack announced.

When Jack reached the door leading to the hallway, Sloane looked up.  "Jack, I hope you and Sydney have a good trip."

"Thank you," Jack answered as he entered the hallway and made his way to the front door.

Sloane stood there for several moments after he heard the front door close.  "Good-bye, Jack."

************

Jack walked quickly to his car.  Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to find it had only taken ten minutes to get Sloane to agree to time off he'd requested.  Backing out of the driveway, he headed back to his apartment to pack a few things before he went to pick up Sydney.

He was almost halfway home before he felt it was safe to place the call.  Removing the phone from his jacket, he punched in the number as he sat at a stop sign.  

He didn't have to wait long for it to be answered.  Without waiting for a greeting, Jack spoke.  "Make the call."

************

Sydney knocked on the door as she self-consciously brushed non-existent lint from her slacks.  When the door opened suddenly, she immediately stopped, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Diane, I'm so sorry I'm late," she stated as she followed Dixon's wife into the house.

"That's fine.  I was only joking with Marcus about you forgetting.  I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I know."

Diane smiled.  "Good.  Now why don't you come on into the dining room?  I was just about to call everyone to the table."

Sydney nodded, following Diane further into the house.  "Something smells wonderful," she said as the tantalizing aromas reached her.

"Thanks," Diane chuckled.  "It's nothing special," she added as they entered the dining room.

Sydney looked around.  _Sure, it's nothing special, she thought as she noted that they'd even pulled out the good dishes.  Glancing up and down the table, she saw that Diane had been __very busy in the kitchen that morning._

Dixon entered the room, sipping from a coffee mug.  "Sydney, glad you could make it," he said cheerfully. 

"Hey," Sydney replied as the sound of two bickering children grew louder by the second.

Diane stood next to the table, her hands on her hips.  Sydney noticed that the "mom" face was firmly in place.  "Matthew, leave your sister alone.  Both of you come in here now!"

Matt and Sarah were still pushing each other when they entered the room, but were quickly separated by their parents.  

"Stop it, both of you!" Diane ordered.

"But Mom..." they whined simultaneously.

Taking a deep breath, Diane looked at her husband, her frustration with their children obvious.  "How did I ever let you talk me into having two of these creatures?" she asked, unable to keep from laughing as she led Matthew to one end of the table while Dixon placed Sarah at the other.

"I have no idea," Dixon answered.  "Want another one?"

Diane blushed and Sydney stood with her mouth open and eyes wide.

Dixon started laughing so hard he almost dropped his coffee.  "You should see yourselves."  He walked over to his wife, placing a kiss on the top of her head.  "I'm just kidding."

Sydney watched the exchange, envying the closeness between them all.  Looking around the room, she wondered if she would ever know this kind of happiness, peace, and love.

"Sydney, have a seat."

Sydney nodded, accepting the chair Dixon was holding out for her.  Seating herself, she'd just unfolded her napkin when she felt something pushing into her arm.  She glanced over and saw a still-pouting Sarah, pushing a platter of eggs at her.

"Here."

"Sarah, that will be enough," Diane admonished.  "Sydney is our guest, and you don't push the dishes into our guests."

"Yes, Mom."

"Now what do you say to Sydney?"

"Sorry, Sydney," Sarah replied quietly.  

"It's ok, honey," Sydney answered as she took the platter and placed some eggs on her plate.  Passing the dish on down the table, she leaned over to Sarah, whispering, "Was your little brother bothering you?"

Sarah nodded.

"Should I tickle him for you later?"

For the first time, Sarah smiled.  "Yeah," she giggled as she took the plate of toast from her father.

"Sydney, what are you two plotting over there?" Dixon asked.

Both Sydney and Sarah straightened themselves and smiled back at Sarah's father.  "Nothing," they replied in unison.

"Uh huh."  Dixon looked down to where his son sat at the other end of the table.  "Matt..."

Matt's loaded fork stopped halfway to his mouth.  "Yeah, Dad?"

Dixon glanced at Sydney and Sarah before returning his gaze to his son.  "When you finish your food, go to your room, lock your door, and don't let anyone in until I tell you."

"But, Dad..." Matt whined.  "Why do I have to go to my room?  Why doesn't Sarah have to go to hers?"  Dropping his fork, he leaned back in his chair.  Now it was his turn to pout.

When Sydney, Dixon, and Diane broke into laughter, Matt slipped even further back in the chair.  "This is _so not fair!"_

The laughter was interrupted by the ringing of Sydney's cell phone.  Rolling her eyes, she just looked at Diane and Dixon apologetically.  "You know, sometimes I don't even know why I have one of these.  Why is it that it only rings when you are in the middle of something?"

"Ah, technology.  Don't you just love it?" Dixon responded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"At this moment, no."  Retrieving the phone from the front pocket of her purse, she turned it on.  "Hello?" she answered, stabbing the eggs in front of her with her fork.

"Hey, Syd.  It's your father."

Sydney almost choked on her eggs at the sound of Vaughn's voice.  "Dad?" she coughed.

"Are you ok?" Dixon and Vaughn asked at the same time.

After clearing her throat and taking a drink of her coffee, she was finally able to answer them both.  "Um, yeah.  Just swallowed wrong."

"Dad?  Sydney's not playing by the rules.  We aren't supposed to talk on the phone at the table," Matt grumbled.

Dixon just glared at his son, who, at the sight of his father's withering glance, decided that the food on his plate was much more interesting than Sydney talking on the phone.

"I'm sorry, Diane, Dixon.  If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll take this in the other room."

Diane just smiled sweetly.  "That's ok, Sydney.  Go ahead and finish your call.  No need to leave the room."

Sydney smiled back, trying to hide her frustration at having to conduct this conversation in front of witnesses.

"Syd?" Vaughn asked.

"I'm here.  Sorry about that.  Um, why are you calling?"

"Your father has gotten Sloane to agree to the time off.  Please act surprised by this."

"You're kidding?  Really?  But I just got back from Palm Springs."

At the mention of Palm Springs, Dixon looked over at Sydney, suddenly _very interested in her half of the conversation._

"He's going to pick you up in about 20 minutes and take you to the airport."

"20 minutes?  Dad, I'm at Dixon's right now.  Remember, Sunday brunch?  Are you sure I can't just meet you at the airport?"

"No," Vaughn replied firmly.  "Jack said that he would pick you up.  Apparently he thinks that Sloane might be having him followed, so he wants to make this look as real as possible."

Sydney grimaced.  "Well, ok.  God, you aren't giving me much notice.  Would you at least tell me where we're going?"

"Syd, I'm going to have to go.  Weiss and I are almost at the airport now.  Just make sure you're home in 20 minutes when Jack gets there."

"Dad..." she whined.  "You know I don't like surprises."

"That's good, Syd.  Is Dixon buying any of this?" Vaughn chuckled.

"Actually, yes.  I think so."

"Ok, well, we're here.  I'll see you at the airport."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to tell them you said hello," she replied as she looked at Dixon.  Seeing the smile on his face, she immediately felt guilty for the charade, but what choice did she have?  "Ok, I'll head home and get a few things packed."

"Alright, Syd.  I really have to go now," Vaughn announced as the cab driver informed Weiss of the fare.

"Ok, I'll see you in just a bit."  She paused briefly.  "Bye."  

"Ok, Syd.  We'll see you in Newark."  He didn't think half of this had been necessary, but Sydney was the one who had to do the convincing.

Sydney waited for a second before taking a deep breath and then spoke softly.  "I love you.  Bye!"  Turning the phone off, she dropped it back in her purse.  She took another bite of her eggs before excusing herself from the table.  "I'm so sorry to do this, but I have to go."

Dixon leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.  "So what's going on?"

Sydney had the good sense to look confused.  "I don't know.  All he'd say is that he was going to take me someplace I haven't been since I was a little girl."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not really sure, but he's going to be picking me up in," she glanced at her watch, "oh dear, about fifteen minutes."

Dixon stood and led her to the door.  Opening it, he leaned against the frame and watched as Sydney walked to her car.  "Hey, Syd."

She turned back.  "Yeah?"

"Have a good trip."

Sydney smiled and turned back to her car.  "Thanks, Dixon.  When I get back, we'll have to try this again.  Tell Diane that, as usual, it was wonderful," she shouted as she climbed behind the wheel.

Dixon waved.  "I'll tell her, and I'll hold you to that."

************

Vaughn was still sitting in the back of the cab, unable to move.  Slowly, he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the display.  2 minutes, 49 seconds.  That's how long the call had been.  _Maybe it was just my imagination, he thought as he hit end._

_I love you... Sydney's voice echoed through his mind.  No, he hadn't imagined it, but why had she said it?_

"Hey, Mike?"

Vaughn glanced at Weiss, his expression confused.  "Huh?"

"I think the driver would like you to get out now."

Vaughn nodded, still in a daze.  Getting out, he walked around to where Weiss was standing, their bags beside him.

"What's wrong?"

Vaughn put the phone in his pocket and grabbed his suitcase.  "Nothing," he answered as they entered the terminal.


	9. Part 8

Jack watched as Sydney pulled into the drive.  He glanced at his watch.  _At least she didn't take as long as Vaughn had, he thought as he watched her get out of the car and hurry up the sidewalk._

She fumbled with her keys as she approached him.  "Sorry."

Jack stepped back to let her unlock the door.  "I wasn't expecting to be waiting this long."

Sydney sighed as she opened the door.  "I _had to go to Dixon's.  As soon as __you called, I left."_

"Sydney..." Jack started.

"No, listen.  I don't think it's a good thing for us to discuss this right now," she said as she walked into the bedroom.  

"Please tell me that you are at least ready to go."

Sydney reappeared with suitcase in tow.  "I think so," she replied sarcastically.

Sydney was about to open the door when Jack stopped her.  "I know you're upset with me.  But when you walk out that door, you _will have a smile on your face and you __will look like you are happy to be leaving with me.  Do we understand each other?_

Sydney glared at her father.  "Yes, I _understand.  Shall we?" she asked, holding the door open._

When she turned to lock the door, Jack grabbed her bag and headed to the car.  Following her father, she arrived at the car, a smile plastered on her face.  

Jack opened the door for Sydney, waiting for her to get in.  He was shocked when she kissed his cheek before she ducked into the car.  It took him a moment to recover.  Leaning against the door, he looked down at his daughter.  "What was that for?"

Sydney smiled up at him, but the smile never reached eyes.  "For taking me on this trip," she replied sweetly.

Closing the door, he shook his head.  _You're welcome, he thought as he got in and pulled onto the road._

************

Neither spoke during the forty minute trip to the airport, each lost in their own thoughts.  Occasionally, Jack would glance over at Sydney, watching her for a moment before returning his focus to the road.  

Sydney could feel her father's gaze, but continued to stare out the window as the airport drew closer.  She wanted so much to apologize for what she had said at the warehouse, but she didn't know how to begin.  _That always seems to be the problem,  she thought.  After so many years, she had no idea where to begin._

As Jack pulled up to take a ticket for long-term parking, he looked back at Sydney only to find her looking at him as well.

"Sydney..."

"Dad..."  

They both stopped.  Jack glanced over at Sydney.  "What is it?"

"No, you first."

"It wasn't important," Jack stated solemnly.  "What did you want to say?"

Sydney shook her head and gazed back out the window.  "Nothing."

Jack nodded and pulled into a parking space, turning off the engine.  Sitting there for a moment, he looked back at Sydney.  "Sydney."

Sydney looked back at her father.  "Yes?"

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry.  Had I known what would happen, I would never have involved Mr. Tippin."

"You know, Dad," she began.  "His name is not _Mr. Tippin.  His name is Will and he's one of my best friends and..."_

"And what?" Jack asked.

Sydney looked away.  "And nothing."  She glanced at her watch. It was almost one o'clock.  "We should go inside," she added as she opened the door.

Jack sat for a moment longer before getting out of the car.  It had already been a long day, but he had a feeling it was about to get even longer.

************

Jack walked up to the counter, his ID in hand.  The line hadn't been long, but since two of the ticket agents appeared to be out to lunch, they'd had to wait for almost fifteen minutes.

"Can I help you, Sir?" the young man behind the counter asked.

"Yes, the name is Jack Bristow.  I have reservations for myself and my daughter on the two p.m. flight to Newark."

"Can I see your tickets please?"

"They are electronic tickets," Jack answered.

"Of course.  May I see your IDs please."

Jack handed his over as Sydney stepped over and placed hers on the counter.  Moments later, the questions about luggage had been asked and answered and the boarding passes issued.

"Thank you and enjoy your flight," the clerk stated cheerfully.  "Next please."

************

Sydney placed her purse on the conveyor belt and passed through the metal detector, joining her father on the other side.  She waited patiently, not noticing the change in Jack's stance or expression.

The security guard examining the bags going through the x-ray machine motioned to his supervisor.  When the woman stepped to the monitor, she looked up at Sydney.  "Excuse me miss.  Is this your purse?"

Sydney looked at the bag the woman was now holding up.  "Yes."

"Would you follow me please?"

"Sure."  She looked at Jack, who was now glaring back at her.  "Dad, I don't know what's wrong here.  I mean, this has never happened before."

"Really?" Jack asked as he followed Sydney to a table where the woman was now emptying the contents of Sydney's purse.  "Is there something you'd like to tell me, Sydney?"

Sydney looked at her father, her confusion still evident.  "Dad, I told you, I have know idea what this could be about."

"That is not what _I'm  talking about.  Would you mind explaining just exactly what you are planning on doing on this trip?"_

"Ah, here's the problem," the woman announced.  "Miss, you do realize that nail files are not allowed in carry on luggage any longer."

Sydney turned back to the woman and looked at the forbidden item she was holding.  "Oh God!  I thought I took that out of there.  God, I can't believe I didn't check."

Sydney turned back to her father, who's face was a rather interesting shade of red.  "Dad?"  Are you ok?"

Jack wasn't paying any attention to what Sydney was asking.  He didn't even hear her.  He was focusing on what had been removed from his daughter's purse.  More specifically, he was focusing on several items lying innocently on the table that had been removed from _his daughter's purse._

Turning to his daughter, he glared at her.  "Is there something you would like to tell me, Sydney?"

"Dad?  What are you talking about?  What's wrong with you?"

Jack continued glaring at her as he pointed to the table.  Sydney turned towards the table, but her view was obstructed by a security guard who was rummaging through her purse's contents.

"What the hell are those?" Jack asked angrily.

"What the hell is what?" Sydney asked, frustrated.  _What?  Does the sight of a tampon scare him?_

"THAT!" he said, pointing.  

Sydney turned around again and finally saw what had caused the appearance of Hurricane Jack.  Lying harmlessly on the table before her were 8 condoms.  "Oh, no," she groaned softly.**  "What the hell are those?"**

Jack pulled Sydney to his side.  "Really, Sydney, I think you know what they are and what they are used for.  I'd hope that you'd..." Jack couldn't continue.  

"I know _what they are.  I just don't know..." Sydney replied indignantly before being cut off by her father._

"This is not a pleasure trip, Sydney," he stated gruffly.  "I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that.  It is, after all, your friend we are trying to rescue," he whispered angrily.

"But, Dad!  I didn't...  Those...  They aren't mine," she stammered.

"That's your purse, isn't it?"

Sydney dropped her head.  "Yes," she replied quietly.

"The rest of the items you claim to be yours, correct?"

"Yes, but Dad..."

"But you have no idea who those belong to nor do you have any idea how they found their way into your purse.  Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Dad.  I don't know where they came from.  I didn't put them in my purse.  For God's sake, do you think if I'd put them in there, I would have let them dump my purse so that _you'd be able to see them?"****_

Jack stopped his inquisition for a moment, realizing that she was right.  If she had known they were there, she would never have allowed her purse to be dumped out.  But the question remained, who put them in there?

At that moment, the woman who'd inspected Sydney's purse, returned.  "Ok, everything seems in order now.  I'm afraid I can't give you back the nail file, but you may now put your belongings back in your bag."

Sydney gratefully grabbed her purse from the guard and began throwing the items that littered the table back inside.  She suddenly realized who was responsible for this little incident.  And Francie would pay.  Oh she would pay dearly...

Jack watched as Sydney threw her stuff back in her purse, noting that she tossed the condoms in as well.  Obviously, something would have to be done about this situation.  Looking ahead to where Weiss and Vaughn were standing, he figured he had an entire flight to think of something.  And he would think of something...****

As Sydney hurried along, trying to reign in her embarrassment, the guard who'd been responsible for this little drama pulled Jack aside.  "You know, it is very responsible of her, planning ahead like that.  But next time, she might want to pack those in her suitcase instead of having them in her carry on.

Jack glowered at the woman.  "Yes," he answered through gritted teeth.  "That might be a better place for them.  I'll be sure to point that out during our flight," he finished as he stalked off after Sydney.****

Sydney was fishing through the contents of her purse, looking for her phone.  She knew it was in there, for Christ's sake.  She finally found it just as Jack caught up with her. 

"Sydney, may I have a word?"

"I think you've had more than enough words for the moment.  Right now, I'm about to have words with the person responsible for this," she paused briefly, "mess."

Jack continued to walk along side his daughter, trying not to notice that they were almost to where Weiss and Vaughn were standing.  As Sydney pulled her phone out, she didn't notice that something else came out along with it.  Nor did she notice Weiss leaning over to pick up the item she'd dropped.****

"Excuse me, miss?" Weiss called after her, but she was already too far away.

"What do you think you're doing?" Vaughn asked angrily as he pulled Weiss back.

Weiss looked at his friend.  "She dropped something.  I mean, I suppose I could give it back to her when we get to Newark, but I just thought I'd do it now."

"What did she drop?"  

For the first time, Weiss actually felt what he was holding.  Thinking he had to be mistaken, he looked at the contents of his hand.  Closing his hand quickly, he shoved it in his pocket.  

"So what is it?"

"Nothing," Weiss mumbled as their flight was called.


	10. Part 9

Weiss stared out the window, watching as the clouds floated below the plane.  _It looks so peaceful from here, he thought as the snow-capped Rockies poked through some of the clouds._

Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to find they'd been in the air for about an hour and a half.  Suddenly, someone leaned around him and looked out the window.

"What the..." Weiss started before realizing it was Vaughn leaning around him.

Vaughn moved back and settled himself in the seat next to Weiss's.  "Hey."

"Hey.  I thought you were stuck somewhere way in the back."

Vaughn grinned.  "Yeah, well, I just asked the nice woman who was sitting next to you if she'd like a window seat.  Seems she did, so here I am."

"Right.  And what mildly contagious disease do I have that helped convince her?"

Vaughn held up his hands in mock surrender.  "I swear, I just asked her if she wanted a window seat."

Weiss looked at his friend, a mixture of uncertainty and sadness crossing his face.  "Mike, I'm ok," he stated quietly.

Vaughn regarded his friend carefully.  "No, you aren't."  He quickly continued before Weiss could disagree.  "No one who has been through what you have today could possibly be ok."

Weiss nodded.  "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he replied sarcastically.

"Eric..."

"Excuse me?" Weiss interrupted, catching the attention of the passing flight attendant.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Could I have a pillow please?"

"Certainly."  She looked at Vaughn.  "Is there anything I can get for you, Sir?"

Instead of paying attention to what was being asked, Vaughn had been glaring at his friend.

"Mike, you're being rude."

Vaughn looked over at the woman whom he'd hoped had already gone away.  "Sorry, what?"

"Is there anything I can get for you?  A pillow?  Or perhaps something to drink?"

Vaughn was suddenly aware of just how tired he was.  "A pillow would be fine.  Thank you."

The attendant nodded.  "I'll be right back."

Vaughn smiled half-heartedly at the attendant before turning his attention back to Weiss.  "Eric..." he started, only to be interrupted once again by the attendant.

"Here you are.  Is there anything else?"

Vaughn knew the woman was only doing her job, but at the moment, her perkiness was severely pissing him off.  "No.  I think we are ok for now."

"Well, just let me know if you need anything."

"We will," he answered tightly as the attendant was called away by another passenger.  He looked back at Weiss and was about to speak when Weiss cut him off.

"Mike, I know what you're going to say, but don't.  Please."  He sighed and shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position.   In the end, he settled for leaning against the window, the pillow smashed somewhere between the back of his seat and the paneling next to the window.  "I just want to get some sleep."

Vaughn reluctantly agreed.  "Ok.  But you know if you need..."

"I know," Weiss stated tiredly as he closed his eyes, praying for a dreamless sleep.

************

Sydney shifted slightly in her seat, trying to get comfortable.  _You'd think that the seats in first class would be more comfortable, she thought as she shifted around again._

She pulled the headphones she'd been wearing off, placing them back in the seat pocket.  She'd chosen an easy listening music channel, but found that she was too worried to let the music relax her.

She glanced at her watch.  Almost 6 p.m..  _Well in LA, it's almost 6, she thought.  Glancing at her father, she noticed he'd fallen asleep.  It didn't surprise her._

As gently as she could, she stood and scooted around him.  She hated airplane lavatories, but she had no choice.  _Last time I have more than two glass of wine on a flight..._

Sydney pulled the curtain aside, walking through the coach section on her way to the bathroom.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vaughn and Weiss.  _Hmm...__  I thought Devlin said they wouldn't have seats next to each other.  __Jesus, Syd, Vaughn probably just switched seats so he could be next to his friend.  _

She was forced to stop a row up from where they were sitting due to a businessman pulling something out of the overhead storage compartment.  She took the opportunity to study Vaughn.

From the way he was slumped in the seat, she assumed he'd been asleep for quite some time, but his expression was anything but relaxed. She knew she was staring, but she couldn't help herself. 

When he shifted slightly, she tore her gaze from him, noticing that the man who'd been blocking her path had returned to his seat.  Glancing back at him, she found herself staring into his now opened eyes.  She straightened herself quickly before walking past where he and Weiss were sitting and on to the bathroom.

On her way back to her seat, Sydney purposely kept her eyes forward as she passed their seats.  Going around the curtain, she leaned against the partition for a moment before returning to her seat.  

************

_The door was ajar, but he knocked anyway.  When there was no response, he pulled his gun and carefully entered the house.  Shutting the door quietly behind him, he walked further into the living room._

_He glanced to his right, immediately noticing the two coffee mugs that were sitting on the counter.  Moving silently to them, he held his hand over one cup then the other.  Still warm, he thought__, but by no means hot._

_Walking forward into the hall, a soft cry reached his ear that had him raising his gun as he headed quickly to her bedroom and the noise.  _

_The closer he came to her door, the louder, the more insistent the pleas became._

_"Oh...  God...  Please...  Don't..."_

_He couldn't hear anything now but the pounding of his heart.  He was just about to burst through the door when another voice, a decidedly masculine voice, joined hers._

_"Oh God..."_

_He stopped dead in his tracks.  What the hell was HE __doing here?_

_He pushed the door open, just enough to see them, naked, arms and legs entwined on her bed.  His little girl..._

_It only took a moment for __Sydney__ to realize someone else was in the room.  "Dad?!?" she asked._

_Jack saw something move in the corner of the room.  Sloane.  Jack tried to warn Sydney as Sloane raised a semi-automatic pistol, gunfire erupting, bullets shredding the bedding and the people lying on top of it._

_"Dad?" she asked once again, her face contorted in pain, blood seeping from the gaping wound in her chest.  She slid off the bed, the sheet clutched in her hand.  He moved forward, catching her before she landed hard on the floor.  _

_"I'm sorry Jack, but she lied to me."  Sloane cocked his head, regarding the man cradling his dying daughter in his arms.  "She lied to all of us..."_

_"Daddy?" she repeated before closing her eyes one last time..._

"Dad?"  Sydney called as she tried to wake him.

Jack almost jumped out of his seat when her hand touched his shoulder.  "What?" he asked gruffly, his voice full of emotion.  _Thank God, it hadn't been real..._

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he replied, shifting around in his seat.  "What time is it?"

"They just announced that we'll landing in about 20 minutes."

Jack nodded.  "Sydney..."

"What?"

"We need to talk about this."

Even though she knew what he was referring to, she decided to act like she didn't.  "Talk about what?"

Jack leaned closer, his voice not much above a whisper.  "About what has happened."

Sydney glared at her father for a moment before turning her gaze to the back of the seat in front of her.  "Dad," she replied coldly, all traces of the concern that had colored her voice just minutes before completely gone.  "I don't really think that this is time or the place for this conversation.  Do you?"

Jack looked around the crowded cabin.  She had a point, but they still needed to resolve this conflict between them.  Especially after the nightmare he'd just had.  "You have a point, but we need to..."

Sydney turned to face her father, her look cold and hard.  "Not now.  Not here.  Maybe we can discuss this after we've landed, but right now, _Dad, I don't think you want to __hear what I have to say."_

_But I already did... "Fine," he shot back angrily.  He stood up and moved into the aisle._

"Where are you going?"

Jack looked back at his daughter.  His living, breathing, daughter.  "I need to use the facilities," he answered.  He stopped, "If that's ok with you."

Sydney sat back as if she'd been slapped.  Turning her gaze forward, she mumbled, "Fine..."

Jack reached the curtain and drew it back.  He was about halfway back when his eyes drifted and he spotted Vaughn.  He glared at the younger man for a moment before quickening his pace, reaching the bathroom in just a few lengthy strides.

Once he was safely inside the small closet they jokingly called a bathroom, he leaned heavily against the lavatory, staring at his reflection in the mirror.  He shook his head before turning on the water and splashing some on his face.

_"Our daughter is such a beautiful little girl," Laura's words echoed through his mind.  __"When she's older, we'll have to lock the doors and windows to keep the boys away."  _

He remembered her laughing as she'd run her hand through Sydney's hair lovingly.  _Lovingly...  He shook his head at the thought, reaching over and grabbing a small towel.  Drying his face, he straightened his tie before exiting the bathroom._

Much like his daughter had several hours before, he quickly walked back up to first class and reclaimed his seat.

Weiss looked at Vaughn.  "What the hell's wrong with Jack?"****

Vaughn shook his head.  "I have no idea," he replied as the flight attendant made the landing announcements.

************

Jack and Sydney made their way through the crowded terminal finally reaching the lower level.  No words were spoken as they waited for their luggage.

Five minutes later, they were walking towards the exit when Jack spotted a man in a driver's uniform holding a card with their last name printed on it.  Looking around, he noticed another man standing about 10 feet away holding a card with Vaughn's and Weiss's names on it.

Sydney was about two steps ahead of him when he called her back.  

She turned back to him.  "What?"

Jack inclined his head slightly towards the man holding the card.  He watched as she glanced over and then moved back to where he stood.

"Do you know anything about this?" she asked cautiously as they slowly approached the man.

"No, but I'm willing to assume that Devlin arranged this."

"Why?"

"Ten feet behind this one, you'll see someone else holding another card.  Read the names."

Sydney looked ahead, seeing the man Jack was referring to.  "Are you sure about this?"

"Go on over.  Tell him, I'll be right with you."

"Dad?"

"I'm going to make a call."

Sydney did as she was told.  Turning back around, she saw her father talking on his phone.  When she was able to catch his eye, he simply nodded at her, indicating that everything was ok.

Jack watched as Weiss and Vaughn approached.  Waiting until Vaughn was practically next to him, Jack stepped forward, colliding with him.

"What the hell?"

"I'm sorry.  I wasn't paying attention," Jack apologized as he leaned over to help Vaughn pick up the bag he'd dropped.  "Ten feet ahead.  Driver.  Go with him.  Devlin arranged," he stated quietly.  Standing back up, he handed the bag back Vaughn.  "Again, I'm sorry.  I should have been paying more attention."

"No problem," Vaughn replied.  "Thanks."

"Certainly.  If you'll excuse me."

"What's going on?" Weiss asked as he watched Jack join Sydney, becoming concerned when he saw them leave with the unknown driver.

Vaughn watched them leave as well.  "It's ok.  Jack told me that Devlin arranged this."  

"Arranged what?"

"See the guy over there?  The one holding the card our names are on?"

"Yeah?"

"Devlin arranged this," Vaughn stated again.  Seeing that Weiss was still confused, Vaughn moved a bit closer.  "You know.  _Arranged this."_

"Oh," Weiss replied as Vaughn's meaning finally dawned on him.  Walking forward, he glanced back at Vaughn.  "Well, let's not keep him waiting."

************

Sydney stared out the window as the car pulled up to the safe house, lost in thought.  _Three days ago Will had no idea I led a double life.  Now he's been kidnapped because of me, maybe even dea-_

"Sydney?"

She jumped, then turned to see that her father was holding the door open for her.  "Oh.  Thanks," she muttered and stepped out of the car.

Father and daughter followed their driver into the safe house.  He flipped a light switch, illuminating the oversized living room, and waved his hand.  "Have a seat," he said.  "The others should be arriving shortly."

Sydney gratefully sank onto the couch, exhausted from hours of worrying.  Jack walked around the room-- inspecting it for bugs, she realized-- before sitting down beside her.  

The driver plugged a speaker phone into the wall.  "We'll be calling Mr. Devlin as soon as everyone's here," he said, answering Jack's silent question.  "Those were the orders."  With that, he spun on his heel and left the room.

The two sat quietly on the couch, each contemplating what information Devlin would have for them.After several minutes, Jack spoke.  "We need to talk," he said quietly, staring straight ahead.

Sydney sighed, expecting the worst, as a sense of dread overcame her.  _I am going to kill Francie when I get home.  "What?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even._

"I'm sorry."

"You're what?" Sydney asked, shocked.

"You heard me.  There's no need to repeat myself," Jack answered.

"Sorry about what?" she shot back.  _For not being a father for all these years, for not keeping me away from Arvin Sloane...geez Dad, there's a lot you should be sorry for!_

"I'm sorry that Will got drawn into this," he replied in a measured tone.  "He had too many questions, talked to too many people.  It got Sloane's attention.  I want you to know, Sydney, that I did everything in my power to keep him safe.  _Everything!"_

Had _too many questions, talked to __too many people.  Why does he keep using the past tense?  Sydney shivered.  __He's not dead.  He's fine.  I'm going to wake up and find myself at home and Will's going to be eating our cereal again.  Will's fine.  Except he's not._

Sydney realized that she'd zoned out again.  "What did you say?"

Jack sighed, looking like an exasperated parent.  "I said, if Will is alive--which he most likely is, he's too valuable to Sark--we will find him and bring him home.

"_If Will is alive," she echoed._

"Sydney, we must face reality.  Given what they found at the safe house in L.A., this may not be a rescue mission."  Jack hated to point this out to her, but felt he needed to prepare her just in case things did not go as planned.

Sydney stared at the clock as it chimed twelve times.  "I just can't help thinking that if I'd still been there, I could have kept him safe," she admitted.

"Sark had a tazer.  If you had still been there, he probably would have shot and kidnapped you like Ti--Will."  Jack paused, fighting for control.  "And at worst, you could have suffered the same fate as Pierson."  He was moving closer and closer to the edge, and the thought that his daughter's voice could have been the one at the end of the tape was almost his undoing.

Sydney nodded and opened her mouth to speak when the phone rang.  

The driver returned to the living room and picked up the receiver.  "Perez."  He listened for a moment.  "You're sure you lost them?  Drive around for another ten minutes just to be sure," he instructed, then hung up the phone.

"They were being tailed?" Sydney asked Perez.

"It appears that way," he answered as he sat down in an overstuffed chair.  "Adams said that they were being tailed from the airport, then suddenly the other car did a u-turn and drove away."  

"Weird," Sydney muttered.  "Maybe they weren't really being followed."

Perez shook his head.  "Sounds too suspicious.  Anyway, they're going to drive around a little while longer before joining us."  He leaned back in his seat and stared out the front window.

Eighteen minutes later, headlights could be seen pulling into the driveway.  Perez rose from his chair and walked to the front door.

Jack stood up as the four agents entered the room.  Sydney reluctantly followed suit.

"Long time no see," Weiss said as he set his suitcase on the floor.  He unceremoniously plopped on the nearest available seat.

"Jack, Sydney," Vaughn said, his eyes lingering on Sydney for one brief moment.

"You lost the tail?" Jack asked in a clipped voice.  

"Yes, Sir," the agent Sydney presumed to be Adams answered.  He looked at Perez.  "Are we ready?"

"Just need to call Mr. Devlin," Perez answered.  He punched a series of numbers into the telephone and waited for an answer.

"Devlin," the voice on the other end of the phone replied.  

"Sir, it's Perez and Adams.  Everyone's here."

"Good.  I take it there were no problems?"

"Actually," Adams confessed.  "It looked like we were being followed from the airport, but then the car just disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes, and just to make sure, we drove around for awhile before coming here."

Devlin was silent for a moment.  "You're sure you weren't followed?"

"Yes, Sir.  Positive."

"Ok.  I'm going to be brief because we don't have much time.  We have received intel that Sark commissioned two planes to leave from Newark," Devlin began.

"Which one was he on?" Weiss asked.

"That, Agent Weiss, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question.  Unfortunately, we don't know.  Which means that the four of you will have to split up to complete this mission.  I trust that won't pose any problems."

Jack looked around at those assembled before answering for the group, "I'm certain that everyone is capable of playing their roles," he said as he carefully inspected Weiss.  The man was sitting in his chair, grinding his teeth and gripping the armrests.  _Moving on to the anger stage, I see._

"Fine.  Does everyone have their new passports?" Devlin asked.

Weiss leaned over and opened the suitcase, retrieving the four manila envelopes.  "I'm handing them out now, Sir," he said as he handed them out to Jack, Sydney, and Vaughn, keeping the last for himself.

"Agent Vaughn, Sydney, you two will be leaving on a commercial flight in two hours for Paris.  Jack, you and Agent Weiss will be flying by private jet to Madrid.  Your plane will leave as soon as you can get to Teterboro."

"Ben, are you sure about these _arrangements?" Jack questioned impatiently.  He leaned forward, moving his head closer to the speaker.  "Are you sure it's wise for Sydney to return to Paris so soon?  Besides, her Spanish is far superior to her French."_

Vaughn looked on, amused by what he realized was taking place.  _Papa Bear isn't too happy, he thought to himself as he tried not to grin.  Besides, he didn't know what Jack was talking about.  Sydney's French was marvelous._

Looking over at her, he remembered their last conversation.  _On second thought, maybe we should switch this around.  Except that would mean I would be traveling with--he cleared that thought from his mind immediately.  __Never mind.  Definitely want to travel with __Sydney__._

"The tickets to Paris have already been purchased under Vaughn's and Sydney's aliases.  Besides, we need you to use your contacts in Spain once you get there."

Jack leaned back on the couch, silently fuming.

"Jack, you and Agent Weiss need to leave immediately.  We don't need to waste any more time," Devlin instructed.  "Perez, Adams, are the phones ready?"

Perez answered for them both.  "Yes, Sir."

"Good.  Please give them to Weiss and Vaughn."

Perez and Adams did as they were told.  "Gentlemen, keep these phones with you at all times.  They are secure lines, even overseas.  Call as soon as you have any information on the whereabouts of Sark and Tippin.  Good luck."

The six agents heard a click, followed by a dial tone.  Perez reached over and disconnected the call.  Looking at Jack and Weiss, he said, "We need to get you gentlemen to the airport."

Jack, Weiss, Vaughn, and Sydney all stood.  Sydney turned to her father, not quite sure what she wanted to say.  "I guess I'll see you when I get back," she said to him.

"Be careful," he admonished.

"I will.  You too," she answered softly.  She stared at him.  _Be careful...  Did he mean "be careful" as in don't get yourself killed be careful or did he mean...  She shook her head._

"Come on, Syd, let's go."  She felt a warm, reassuring pressure on her arm.  Vaughn.  She nodded and began following him from the room, but turned back to find Weiss directly behind her.  Impulsively, she reached out and hugged him, then went to her father.  "Au revoir, Dad," she said, trying to sound cheerful.  Leaning forward, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Jack was stunned by the gesture.  A gentle nudge brought him back.  He looked at Weiss.  "Yes?"

"We should be going."

"Right," Jack said, still shocked by Sydney's actions.  He started moving forward when he caught sight of Vaughn leading Sydney from the room.  He stopped dead in his tracks.  "Mr. Vaughn, may I speak with you a moment?"

Vaughn looked at Jack and then back at Sydney.  "It will only take a moment, I assure you," Jack added.

"But we _really need to get going," Weiss complained._

Jack looked at Weiss and Sydney.  "You two go on ahead.  We'll be right behind you."

Sydney looked at her father.  _What the hell was going on?  "Dad, we really need to go.  Can't this wait?"_

"No, Sydney, it can't," Jack stated coolly, staring at her.  "The longer you remain here, the longer this will take," he pointed out after a couple of minutes.

Sydney watched her father for a moment.  "Fine, just don't be long, ok?"  Glancing at Weiss, she jerked her head towards the door.  "Let's go."

Weiss followed.  _Actually this might be good, he thought as he shoved his hand in his pocket and realized he had something he needed to give back to Sydney anyway.  "We'll be waiting outside," he said simply as he left the room._

Jack closed the door behind Weiss and turned back to face an impatient and confused Vaughn.  "Thank you."

"For what?"

Jack smiled slightly.  "At the warehouse, for insisting that I be a part of this mission."

Vaughn relaxed a bit.  "Jack, we need you on this.  Whether Sydney likes it or not, we need your expertise if we are going to be able to successfully get Will Tippin back."

Jack nodded slightly.  Thinking they were finished, Vaughn went to the door, his hand reaching for the knob when Jack's voice stopped him.

"One more thing."

Vaughn impatiently turned back to face Jack.  "What?"

"I know you have feelings for my daughter," Jack started.

When Vaughn opened his mouth to reply, Jack cut him off before he had the chance to utter a single syllable.  "Don't bother denying it.  You've proven it time and again by meeting with her when there was not a mission to discuss.  You even broke into the _Vatican with her!" _

Jack stopped for a moment, trying to keep his temper in check.  Vaughn stared back at him with a confused expression on his face.  Good, Jack liked it that way.  "You seem to be wondering why I'm bringing this up."

For the first time, Vaughn was permitted to respond.  "Actually, I am wondering where this is going."

A predatory smile flashed across Jack's countenance seconds before he lunged at Vaughn, pushing him hard into the wall.  "Where this is going, Mr. Vaughn, is _nowhere.  If you so much as lay a __finger, let alone a hand, on my daughter, I will make sure that you spend what might remain of your career with the CIA filling out paperwork for coffee requisitions.  You will not put her life in any more danger than it already is.  And if I find out that you have ignored this warning, I will make damn sure that you will never want to touch another human being for the remainder of your life."_

Backing away slightly, Jack allowed Vaughn to straighten himself before concluding.  "Are we clear on this point, Mr. Vaughn?"

Vaughn nodded, unable to speak, having been reminded violently about his first meeting with Sydney's father.  Déjà-vu was not something he'd ever been particularly fond of, this incident just a reminder of how much he detested revisiting the past.  

Jack smiled again.  Vaughn had never seen him smile this much.  It was creepy.  _Hell, his face is probably going to crack, he thought as Jack moved to the door, his hand on the knob.  "I believe we have planes to catch.  Shall we?"_

Again Vaughn nodded. "Yes," he started, his voice cracking.  Clearing his throat, he tried again.  "Yes, sir."

Jack opened the door and allowed Vaughn to precede him from the room.


	11. Part 10

**_Thanks as always to our awesome betas!_**

****

**_We appreciate all of the comments—keep them coming! g_**

****

**_For disclaimers, etc., see the A/N at the beginning._**

****

**_~~~~~~~~_**

"Me, a name I call myself.  Fa, a long, long way to run," could be heard from behind the curtain.  

British Dude sighed.  "I _thought that would knock him out," he said in an annoyed voice.  _

"No, I said that was a possibility.  The poison that we gave him was not the same strength that the others received.  His shot not only alleviated the allergy symptoms, it made him, shall we say, inebriated.  Delusional," the doctor finished with a smirk.  

"Well, he certainly is delusional if _that could be called singing," British Dude retorted.  _

The doctor shrugged.  "Tippin is a fan of musicals.  Sorry, there's nothing I can do about that."  

"But _The Sound of Music?  Why did he have to start singing every song from that damn movie?"  _

"At least he's nearing the end," the doctor answered as Will began to sing "Climb Every Mountain."  

British Dude groaned.  "Make him stop.  _Now."  _

"But with another dose of the poison . . . ." the doctor trailed off.  "You said we weren't going to kill him!"  

"I lied," British Dude said crisply.  "But first we're going to let him know that the true meaning of 'torture' is far more than his unrequited love for Ms. Bristow."  He smiled.  "Give him the shot."  

************

The lights had been off in the cabin for twenty minutes when Vaughn shifted in his seat.  

"Are you okay?" a low voice asked beside him.

He turned slightly, still not quite comfortable with the fact that she was sitting next to him for all the world to see.  "Just a little tired of sitting," he said quietly.   "All I've done is rush from one place to the next, only to sit in one seat for several hours.   It's boring.  Besides, I hate cross-Atlantic flights."  

"Really?  I thought you'd be used to them," she replied as she looked around the cabin.  The half-empty flight was filled with dozing passengers.  One elderly woman had a blindfold over her face to block out any light that could possibly come from the flight attendants' stations, while a group of teenagers had their eyes closed as they moved their heads to the beat of music that could be heard from their headphones.  

Three scrawny business men who hadn't seen the inside of a gym lately and a family of five in the back of the plane who were, from the excited chatter, on their first trip to Europe.  None looked too dangerous, she assessed as she glanced back at Vaughn.  _Of course, if anyone looked at me, they wouldn't think I was a threat either.  _

"How's Weiss holding up?" she whispered.  

"He's making it on pure adrenaline at this point.  I'm just hoping he makes it through Madrid," Vaughn sighed, raking a hand through his hair.  

"Why?  What's so special about Madrid?" Sydney asked, leaning closer to catch his answer.  

"Madrid . . . it was their special place, where they reconnected.  They first met in college, a sociology class, I think, but something happened, and he didn't see her again for a long time.  Then, while he was working on an op in Spain two years ago, they bumped into each other.  They'd been together ever since."  

"Two years?  He'd really been dating the same woman for two years?  Wow," she said, impressed.  "I didn't even realize he was dating _anyone."  _

"Well it was hard on him when he got back from Spain.  She had one more semester to finish on her contract before she could come back.  It's funny, really.  She'd already planned on coming home before she and Eric got back together.  But man, when she got back..."

"What?" Sydney asked, intrigued.

"I don't think I saw him for a month straight.  He took a couple weeks personal leave, without pay, so he could help her find an apartment.  Then he volunteered me to help her move in.  After she was all settled, he took her on a trip up the coast.  When he came back, he was a different man.  He was happy."

Sydney smiled.  "You liked her."

The simplicity of the statement had him swallowing hard.  "Yeah, I did.  They were good together.  And then one day, she was there in the office.  When Weiss saw her, I thought he was going to flip out.  He didn't know why she was there.  Before she had a chance to explain, Devlin called us all into his office to introduce her.  Seems as though she had decided to get a job with the CIA her second semester in Spain."

Vaughn paused for a moment before continuing.  "By the time the meeting was over, Weiss realized that they were going to have to keep their relationship quiet."

"Obviously he was able to do just that."

Vaughn rubbed his eyes tiredly.  "Yeah, but it wasn't easy.  Every time he'd see her, he'd just light up.  I warned him that fraternizing wasn't allowed--you can see how well he took my advice," Vaughn remembered with a wry smile.  "Even if she wasn't an agent--yet--they didn't need to get entangled in a romantic relationship."  

"Entangled," Sydney echoed in a hollow voice.  

"Yeah, I think that's the word I used," he admitted.  "Back then, I told myself you shouldn't get close to anyone you worked with, no matter who the person was."  

Sydney stared at Vaughn as his words washed over her. _Back then..._

He reached over and squeezed her hand. "I don't think that now."

She squeezed his hand back and looked him directly in the eye.  "Good," she said firmly.  

Vaughn visibly swallowed as an image of an angry Jack Bristow took shape in his mind.   Glancing forward, he shook his hand free.   "I'm glad Eric's working with Jack," he said.  "It'll be good for him."  

"Why?  Because my dad's a senior agent?" Sydney asked, puzzled.  

"That too," Vaughn said absently as he stared at the flight attendant who was walking down the aisle.  She looked at the pair and smiled.   _"If you so much as lay a finger on my daughter..."   Vaughn jumped in his seat._

"Are you okay?" Sydney asked, concerned.  She reached over to touch his arm.  

"Fine, fine," Vaughn said, removing her hand.  "Anyway, what was I saying?" he said in a distracted voice.  

"Weiss working with my dad, how it's a good thing?" Sydney supplied.  

"Oh, right.  Yeah, I think that Eric needs someone like _your father," he emphasized the words, "with him right now."  _

Sydney chuckled.  "Vaughn, are you sure you're ok?  You just said that."  

"I'm okay, honest," he said.  

"So?"  

"So what?" he asked nervously.  

"So _why does Eric need Dad?" she supplied.  _

"Oh, yeah.  It's simple, really."  Vaughn looked into Sydney's eyes briefly before glancing away.  "They've both lost the woman that they loved," he muttered softly.****

"Oh," Sydney replied softly.

They sat quietly for a moment before Vaughn turned back to Sydney.  "Syd, I need to ask you about something."

Sydney glanced over.  "What?"

"When I called you at Dixon's," he asked hesitantly.

"What about it?"

"What you said at the end..."

"You mean when I said 'Bye'?"

"No, after that."

Sydney froze.  _No, he didn't hear what I said.  He couldn't have.  He'd already hung up the phone...  "After that?" she asked, her voice an octave higher than normal._

Vaughn sighed.  _Maybe he had imagined the whole thing.  __Might as well just say it.  "When you said 'I love you'."_

Sydney shifted uncomfortably in her seat before looking at Vaughn.  "What about it?" _Damn damn damn...  Why did he have to hear that?  _

"Syd, why did you say it?" he asked.

Sydney glanced away.  "It's just something you say."

"No, it isn't," he answered impatiently.  _At least not to her father, he thought, turning her face back to him.  "Now __why did you say it?"_

Sydney shook her head loose from his grasp.  "Why do you think I said it?" she asked defensively.

"I don't know why.  That's what I'm asking."

_God, why is my life such a goddamned mess?  "I had to make Dixon think I was talking to Dad."_

Vaughn sat back and continued to stare at her.  _Is she purposely trying to drive me insane?  "And when, exactly, was the last time you said that to your dad?"_

"Probably a lot more recently than you said it to yours."  The minute the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back.  "Oh God!" she gasped, her hand over her mouth.  "I'm _so sorry.  I didn't mean that."_

Vaughn sat there, stunned.  Her words had hurt more than if she'd physically hit him.  "Well, you've got me there.  But at least there is one thing _I'm certain of," he replied coldly._

"What?" she asked quietly.

"That my mother _loved my father.  And she __loves me," he added.  Looking around the cabin, he noticed a couple of empty seats near the front.  He stood up and looked for the flight attendant._

He found her at the attendant's station preparing a cup of coffee.  "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Those two seats at the front, are they occupied?"

The attendant looked to where he was pointing.  "No, they aren't.  Did you wish to move?"

"Well, my leg is cramping up a bit and up there I could stretch out a little," he lied.  He smiled at the woman.  "Would that be a problem?"

She smiled back.  "Not at all.  Do you need a pillow or a blanket?"

He looked back to where Sydney was sitting.  "No, I have them already.  I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't be a problem."

"That will be fine."  As Vaughn turned back towards his seat, the attendant quietly added, "I hope it helps."

"I'm sure it will," Vaughn answered.  Going back to his seat, he angrily grabbed the pillow and blanket he'd been given earlier.

Sydney hadn't moved a muscle, frozen by his words and tone.  When he came back and retrieved the pillow and blanket, she looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes.  "I'm so..."

"You know, right now, I don't really care if you are sorry or not.  I'm going up there and I'm going to get some sleep.  I'd suggest you do the same," he stated icily as he moved to the front of the plane.

Sydney watched him walk away, letting the tears fall.  Turning in her seat, she leaned against the window and stared out into the darkness.  

She thought about the conversation she'd had with Weiss while they'd waited for her father and Vaughn to join them outside the safe house in Newark.  Saying the conversation had been awkward was a _huge understatement._

_"You dropped this earlier," Weiss stated as he reached into his pocket and retrieved the packet._

_She'd taken what he offered her.  Her face froze.  God, of all the things I could have had fall out of my purse, why did it have to be this?__ she'd wondered.  "I... I can explain about this," she stuttered._

_"Sydney, you don't have to explain anything," Weiss stated tiredly._

_"Yes, I do.  These aren't mine."_

_"Whatever you say."__  He held up his hand to prevent __Sydney__ from saying anything before he could finish.  "I know you care about him.  He cares about you too."_

_Sydney__ dropped her head.  She wished she could deny what he'd just said, but the fact was she didn't want to.  "So you think I planned..."_

_Weiss had stepped back, horrified at the suggestion.  "No!  God, no."  He'd shoved his hands in his pockets.  "__Sydney__..."_

_He cleared his throat and tried again.  "Listen, Mike is my best friend and I don't want to see him get hurt."_

_"You think I would hurt him?"_

_He'd just stared at her.  "No.  Not intentionally.  But the fact is, you did hurt him when Noah Hicks came back into your life.  I don't want to see him hurt like that again.  Not by anyone and that includes you."  _

"Miss, are you ok?" the flight attendant asked.

Sydney was startled out of her reverie by the flight attendant's question.  "Um, yes.  I'm fine," she answered as she wiped the tears from her face.  She glanced at her watch, surprised to find that she'd been staring out the window for over an hour.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked sympathetically.

"No, thank you.  Really, I'm fine," Sydney lied.  

"You're sure?"

"Yes, but could you tell me how soon we'll be landing?"

The attendant looked at her watch.  "We still have another three and a half hours before we'll reach Paris."

"Oh," Sydney replied softly.  She watched as the woman started back to her station.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sydney looked up to where Vaughn was sitting as Weiss's words echoed in her mind.  She hadn't meant to hurt him, but that's exactly what she'd done.  Again.

She watched him for a few minutes, trying to judge whether or not he was asleep.  Finally, she decided that it didn't matter as she grabbed her own blanket and pillow and changed seats as well.

She sat down beside him, trying not to wake him as she did.  Pulling the blanket around her, she watched him awhile longer, but soon, fatigue made it difficult to keep her eyes open.

Before drifting off into a restless sleep, she leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, whispering "I am _so sorry."_

************

"I--I don't have my passport," Will said slowly as he dragged behind British Dude down the steps of the plane.  

"No need to worry; it's been taken care of," he answered shortly.  

"How did you get a copy of my passpo--never mind," Will finished under his breath as he saw the darts being shot from British Dude's eyes.  

British Dude nodded towards a sleek black automobile.  "You will be going directly to our safe house.  I must first report to my employer," he pointed to a second vehicle.  "I will meet you there shortly."  

"Okay," Will said.  His brain felt so fuzzy, and there was this pain--not quite a pain, really, more like a dull ache.  Everywhere.  _Am I getting the flu now?   It's not even flu seas--  _

"Mr. Tippin?"  

"Huh?" Will asked blearily, waking up.  

"Narcoleptic," British Dude muttered.  "My employer and I will meet with you shortly."  

"Okay," Will yawned as he climbed in the back seat. "'Night night," he mumbled.  The door shut, and the car sped away.  

Just then a cell phone rang.  British Dude removed a phone from his front pocket.  "Hello?  Yes, we're here . . . just landed at Gatwick.  Yes, yes.  Very good.  I'll be there in ten minutes. . .   What?  Oh, yes."  His lips curled into a smile.  "I'm certain they know who's responsible."  

************

_Eric Weiss walked into the classroom and sighed.  It was just as he had expected--a class of freshmen.  God, he felt old, ancient even.  All at the ripe old age of twenty-two._

_"Are you here for Introduction to Sociology?" the professor inquired from the podium.  Eric looked at her and nodded._

_"Take a seat, please.  We're about to begin," she said, nodding towards the one available desk in the room._

Great.  And it's at the front of the room, too_, Eric thought to himself as he sank into the seat._

_"Welcome to Introduction to Sociology," the professor greeted the students.  "When I call your name, please answer 'here.'"_

_Eric sat through the endless list of names, waiting for her to get to the Ws already.  After calling his name, the professor looked up.  "Is there anyone's name that I did not call?" she asked, peering behind her wire-rimmed glasses.  She looked at Eric.  "Yes?  Your name?"_

_Eric opened his mouth to correct her when he heard a quiet voice behind him answer. _

_"Zoe Pierson," a melodic voice said.  "The Registrar's office said that I'll be on the updated roll, but for now I have a note from them."_

_Eric watched as a petite girl hurried past him to hand over the note.  Man, she was hot.  Wait a minute, Eric.  If she __looks like a high school student, she probably is as __young as a high school student.  Don't get yourself arrested because of some little girl!_

_He tuned the professor out over the next twenty minutes as she reviewed the course policies and the syllabus.  In fact, he continued to tune her out as she put the class in pairs for a semester-long project._

_"And, let's see . . . Mr. Weiss?"_

_"Yes?" Eric said, jerking to attention._

_"You will be working with . . . ah, yes, Ms. Pierson," the professor said, scribbling the new name onto her roll._

_"Pierson?" he echoed.  He felt a tapping on his shoulder and turned around.  A pair of beautiful green eyes stared back at him._

_"Hi, I'm Zoe," she said nervously._

_"Eric," he said, hoping he sounded smooth._

_"So I guess we're partners, huh?"_

_"Guess so," he said.  And who said putting off this intro course was a __bad thing?__ he thought to himself . . . ._

_Tap, tap, tap.  Weiss lifted his head from the small pillow that he'd found in one of the plane's storage cabinets.  _

"What?" he asked blearily.

"We'll be landing shortly," Jack said, folding his hands in his lap.  

"Landing?  Oh, yeah.  Madrid," Weiss said slowly as his memories of sociology drifted to the back of his mind.

"We have to get our passports out," Jack informed him.

"Okay," Weiss said as he reached down into his carry-on bag and removed the new document.  _Nicholas Edward Thompson it proclaimed in large, bold print.  He knew without looking that Jack had removed his passport from his suit jacket.  __Not Jack, Weiss corrected himself.  __Mr. Ian Charles Huntington now._

"Please put your seats in the upright position and buckle your seat belts," the pilot announced over the intercom.  "We will be descending into Madrid momentarily."

The plane slowly began its descent to land.  

"Here," Jack said.

"What?" Weiss turned his head slightly and saw Jack holding out a piece of gum.

"For when we land."

"Oh."  _Who knew Jack Bristow could be considerate?  Maybe he's just getting into his new character as a philanthropist.  Weiss took the piece of gum, unwrapped it, and placed it in his mouth.  "Thanks."_

Weiss stared out the window as the plane neared the runway.  _Could it really be only two years ago that I--_

"Gentlemen, welcome to Spain.  Bienvenidos al Aeropuerto de Madrid Barajas," the pilot said, disturbing his train of thought.

_"Agent Weiss, thank you for coming so quickly," Agent Brown said.  "We appreciate your help in locating the suspect."_

_"You're welcome," he answered as he patted the yo-yo in his pocket.  He was hoping for a quick op, nothing too dangerous.  Just a respite from the sterile environment of the __L.A.__ Bureau._

"Do you have everything, Nicholas?" Jack--Ian--asked solicitously.  _Weird.__  Now__ he uses my first name._

"Yes," Weiss answered.  Ian spun on his heel and began walking towards the exit.  Nicholas followed behind him.  At the escalators they got separated by a group of students who had packed far too much.

_"Sorry," Brown told him.  "American students who've never been to __Spain__ before.__  Happens each summer about this time.  Just don't get stuck in the middle of a group of them--you may not make it out alive," he joked as Weiss grinned._

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe we're here!"

"Hola, Spain!"

"This is _so cool!"  Students chattered all around him as Ian got further away from him.  Finally breaking away from the group, he met Ian as he hailed a taxi._

"There you are," Ian said patronizingly.  He stepped inside the vehicle and turned to the driver.  "Tryp Alameda, por favor," he said.  The driver nodded and hit the gas pedal.

_"If you get a chance, you should really try to do some of the touristy things.  This is a great time of year to visit," Brown told him as they drove to the safe house._

_Weiss nodded.  "I've been here before," he said._

_"Really?"__ Brown looked surprised.  "When?"_

_Weiss grinned.  "I was one of those college kids you were talking about," he said.  _

_Brown had the decency to look embarrassed for a second before continuing his travelogue._

"Gracias," Ian told the driver as they pulled up to the hotel.  He handed him some of the money that they had been given in New Jersey.

"De nada," the driver answered, then sped away.

The two agents quickly checked into neighboring rooms.  Jack was just putting his suitcase away when there was a knock on his door.

Pulling it open, he wasn't surprised to find Weiss on the other side.  "Is there something I can do for you Nicholas?"

Weiss stalked into the room.  "What are you doing?"

Jack shut the door behind him and went back over to the closet.  "I'm unpacking," he replied blandly.

"I can see that, but don't we have other things we should be doing?"

Jack shook his head.  He'd expected this.  "Yes, but in case you didn't notice, everything is closed right now.  I'd suggest you go back to your room and get some sleep.  I have a few calls to make, then I plan on resting for a bit."

"But..."

"But nothing.  You need to be prepared to do what is necessary when the time comes.  The only way that will happen is if you have had some sleep."  Jack moved back to the door.  "Trust me."

Weiss glared at Jack, not believing that now that they were here, all Jack wanted to do was take a nap.  "Fine.  What time shall we begin?"

Jack looked at his watch.  2:15 p.m.  "How about 6:30?  That should give us both time to rest a bit and wait for the information we need to get started."

Weiss nodded.  "Do you want me to come here?"

"No," Jack stated as he opened the door.  "I'll come to your room."

"Okay," Weiss replied, yawning.  _Maybe sleep wasn't such a bad idea after all...  "I'll be ready."_

Jack closed the door and went to his jacket, retrieving his own cell phone, one he knew for a fact to be secure.  Sitting down at the desk, he dialed the first number and waited for it to be answered.


	12. Part 11

Vaughn stirred, the cramp in his neck becoming bothersome.  Still half-asleep, he tried to find the pillow to stick it back under his head, but something wasn't right.  He opened his eyes, blinking several times as the confusion cleared.  _Not at home... on a plane... can't move my arm..._

_Why can't I move my arm? he wondered as he looked to his right and found the cause.  Curled up in the seat, leaning against him was Sydney.  He studied her for a minute before being distracted by the flight attendant's announcement that they would be landing soon. He refocused his attention on a sleeping Sydney, watching as a tear slipped from beneath her closed eyes._

Vaughn reached out to wipe it away before pulling his hand back as he remembered her earlier words, his anger and hurt returning full-force.  Carefully, he pushed her away, the movement waking her.

"Huh?  What?" Sydney mumbled tiredly as she snuggled a bit closer.  

Vaughn leaned forward causing Sydney to fall behind him.  While Sydney righted herself, he turned towards the window and finally found his pillow wedged between the seat and the side of the plane.  "They just announced that we'll be landing soon."

His voice told Sydney all she needed to know.  "Right.  Sorry," she stated, rubbing her eyes before quickly gathering up her pillow and blanket.

Vaughn watched as she hurried back to her original seat.  Running a hand through his hair, he tossed the pillow and blanket aside and followed her, embarrassed by his own actions.

Settling next to her, he was surprised when she shrank away from him.  He let out an exasperated sigh.  "Listen," he started before being interrupted by the attendant's list of landing preparations.                    

Fumbling around, he reached for the seat belt, his hand accidentally brushing Sydney's.  She pulled her hand back quickly as if she'd been burned.  "Sorry," she stated flatly.

Again, Vaughn sighed.  _Given what's happened, maybe it would have been better to travel with Jack, he thought as he felt the plane begin its descent._

Moments later, they were on the ground.  After a stop at Customs, they made their way through Orly to the baggage claim area.  Vaughn watched as Sydney stood at the opposite end of the carousel, waiting for her bag to appear.

She was still waiting when he retrieved his and moved over to where she stood.  Sydney could sense he was about to say something and was relieved when her suitcase finally materialized before he had the chance.

"Is this one yours?" Vaughn asked, stepping next to her as Sydney prepared to grab it off the conveyor belt.

"Yes," she replied.  She grabbed the handle awkwardly, succeeding in pulling it from the carousel, only to have it land on its side. 

Sydney leaned over to right the case, surprised when Vaughn tried to do it for her.  She pushed his outstretched hand away.  "I've got it."

"You sure?" he asked.  "I can get it if you want."

"I'm sure," she snapped, pulling the handle up and heading towards the exit.

Vaughn stood motionless, staring after her rapidly disappearing form.  He shook his head as he grabbed his own bag and hurried after her.

**********__**

Vaughn got out of the cab and walked into the reception area of the hotel.  He and Sydney hadn't spoken a word to each other since they'd left the airport.

He watched as she came through the door, her shock at the opulence of the hotel matching his own.  Vaughn turned his attention to the desk clerk.  "Bonjour.  Nous avons réservés."

"Nom?"

"Sebastien Harcourt et Meghan Stratford."

"Ah.  Monsieur Harcourt.  Mademoiselle Stratford.  Oui," the clerk said hesitantly.

"Est-ce qu'il y a un problème?" Vaughn asked impatiently.

"Possibly," the clerk explained in French.  "We have two couples who are traveling together who were forced to stay an extra two days.  When I checked the register, your reservations had not yet been made, so they were told it would not be a problem."

"So, you don't have rooms for us?"

"I'm afraid that we only have one room available at the moment.  It is one of our Junior Suites.  Of course, since this is our mistake, you will be given the room for the rate of one of the rooms you had booked."

Vaughn leaned in closer, lowering his voice so that Sydney couldn't hear him.  "You're certain you don't have two rooms?"

"Yes.  If you'd like to call another hotel to see if they would have suitable accommodations..."

He was too tired to deal with this.  They'd just have to find a way to deal with this... _problem.  "No, we'll take the room."_

The clerk smiled.  "Good," he stated enthusiastically.  Passing Vaughn a card to fill out, he called for a bell boy.  "Chambre 25," he ordered.

Vaughn looked up.  "We can manage, if that's alright."

The desk clerk nodded, dismissing the young man.  Taking the registration card back from Vaughn, he started to hand him two key cards, but pulled them back just as Vaughn was about to take them.

"Is something wrong?" Vaughn asked, his outstretched hand still waiting for the cards.

"We know why you are here M. Harcourt."  

Vaughn paled.  "Excuse me?"

"The article.  I'm just worried that this little problem with the reservation might appear in Mlle. Stratford's article."

Vaughn wanted to strangle the clerk.  "I guarantee, it will not even be mentioned."

The desk clerk let out a relieved sigh.  "Oh thank you.  I just want to assure you that things like this never happen here."  Finally handing the cards to Vaughn, he added, "I hope you and Mademoiselle Stratford enjoy your stay."

"Thank you," Vaughn answered tightly.  He picked up his suitcase and walked over to where Sydney had decided to sit down.  "Meghan?"

Sydney looked up.  "Yes?"

"Are you ready?"

She rose and followed Vaughn up two flights of steps.  When they reached the room, she looked up and down the hall.  "Where's my room?"

Vaughn passed the card through the reader.  "Here," he answered, holding the door open for her.

She entered the suite and walked around, once again surprised by the extravagance.  "Are you sure this is the right hotel?" she asked, turning back to see Vaughn setting his suitcase in the closet.  "Wait a minute, I thought you said this was my room."

"Yes, I'm sure it's the right hotel.  And yes, it's your room."

"Then what are you doing?"

Vaughn took a deep breath.  "I'll explain in a minute," he said as he swept the room for bugs.

Sydney watched and waited until he completed the sweep.  "Well?"

"The room's clean."

"Wonderful, but that wasn't what I was talking about."

"I know."  He went over and sat down on the sofa. 

"What the hell is going on?" Sydney asked angrily.

"They only had one room.  This is it."

Sydney sat down heavily in a chair across from Vaughn.  "One room?"

"Yes, but listen, this isn't going to be a problem."

She wanted to laugh.  "Really?  How do you figure that?"

"We don't have a choice here, Syd.  There was a screw-up with our reservations.  In order to make up for the hotel's mistake, they gave us this suite."

"Ok, fine, but Vaughn..."

Vaughn ignored her protests and got up from the couch, walking over to his suitcase.  Opening it, he pulled the phone out.  "I need to call Devlin."

Sydney got up as well.  When she reached Vaughn, she grabbed the phone from him hand.  At his angry glare, she simply stated, "Ignoring what started this isn't going to help.  We need to talk.  Now."

Vaughn leaned against the door to the closet.  "Syd, I don't want to fight with you.  Really I don't.  I _am sorry about what I said on the plane last night, but right now, I just want to call Devlin so we can find out what we are supposed to do.  Okay?"_

"So, just because you say you're sorry, I'm supposed to just accept it and that's it?"

"Syd..."

"No!  Damn it, Vaughn!  I tried apologizing last night.  Honestly, I didn't mean what I said.  But then this morning, before I could say anything, you just cut me off.  And now, here you are, telling me that you're sorry.  And just because you said it, I'm supposed to go, okay, everything's fine?"  

Vaughn banged his head against the closet door a couple of times in frustration.  "Jesus, Syd.  What do you want me to say?"

She looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes.  "I know I hurt you with what I said, but it was an accident.  What you said wasn't.  It was cold and harsh and you said it to hurt me.  And then when you woke me up..."

"When I woke you up what?"

Sydney handed him the phone.  "Never mind.  You're right, you should call Devlin."  She walked over to the window, rubbing her arms vigorously, trying to drive away the chill that had settled over her.  In the background she could hear Vaughn telling Devlin that they'd checked in.  After a moment's silence, Vaughn began speaking again and then disconnected the call.

"So what's the plan?" she asked, still staring out the window.

"Devlin wants us to check out Khasinau's club tonight after it gets dark," he responded tiredly.

"Well, at least we don't have to worry about it being open.  Not after what happened Friday night."  She closed her eyes, remembering the stunned look on Will's face.  

Vaughn walked over and joined Sydney in front of the window, checking his watch.  4 p.m.  "We'll leave around 9."

"Okay," she agreed quietly, her mind preoccupied by thoughts of what had happened to Will.

"Good, now why don't we get some sleep?"

Sydney continued to stare out the window as various scenarios played out in her mind, each more horrific than the last.  

"Sydney?" Vaughn asked, her silence worrying him.  When she still didn't answer, he gently nudged her shoulder.  "Syd?"

She jumped.  "What?"

"I said maybe we should get some sleep."  He wasn't going to ask if she was okay.  He could see that she wasn't.  And he didn't know how to fix it.

"You know, I don't think I'll be able to sleep right away, so I'm going to take a shower.  But you should go ahead and sleep."

Vaughn nodded, walking over to the couch.

She saw where he was going and blocked his path.  "Bed," she said simply as she turned him, pushing him towards the bed.

"Sydney, this is ridiculous," he objected.  "I'll take the couch."

"Lie down," she ordered.  

"Syd..."

When he remained standing, she kicked his feet out from under him, pushing him backwards as he fell.  "I'll take the couch.  The way your feet were dangling over the edge a few minutes ago, there's no way you'll get any sleep.  If you don't sleep, I won't sleep."

Vaughn started to sit up and was promptly pushed back down.  "Vaughn, please.  I don't want to fight anymore.  Would you please just lie down?  I'll take the couch."

Vaughn started to sit up again.  When he saw that Sydney intended to push him back down again, he held his hand up.  "I was going to take off my shoes."

Sydney stepped back.  "Sorry."

"I know."

Sydney smiled sadly before turning to retrieve a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from her suitcase.  "When I get out of the shower," she started, turning back to see him stretching out on the bed, "if I find you on that couch, I'll..."

"You'll what?" he asked, trying very hard to keep his eyes open.

"I don't know," she finally replied.  "But I can guarantee you won't like it."

Vaughn smiled.  He couldn't help himself.  He leaned over and set the alarm for 7:30.  "I'm not going anywhere," he said as he laid back on the bed before continuing, "but would you promise me something?"

Sydney regarded him cautiously.  "What?"

"That you'll try to get some sleep after your shower."

"I promise," she answered, heading into the bathroom.

**********__**

Thirty minutes later, Sydney emerged from the bathroom.  She looked over at Vaughn, who was already asleep, a pillow clutched to his chest.  She was about to get the other pillow from the bed when she noticed that Vaughn had already placed a pillow and blanket on the couch for her.

She sat down, pulling the blanket around her shoulders and leaned back, her eyes closed.  After five minutes, she decided to lie down, thinking that maybe that would help her drift off.

By six p.m., she knew there was no hope of getting any sleep.  Every time she closed her eyes all she could see was Will sitting on the couch in the safe house in L.A.  _Had he really thanked her for saving his life?  She wondered what he was thinking now.  _

Sydney got up from the couch and walked over to her suitcase.  She unzipped it slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible.  With each pull on the zipper, she looked over at the bed where Vaughn was sleeping to make sure the noise hadn't disturbed him.  She didn't need him waking up now.

Finally she had the case opened enough to retrieve a pair of jeans, a dark sweater, and her tennis shoes.  Slipping quietly back into the bathroom, she changed quickly.

She opened the door slowly, creeping past the bed.  She dropped the clothes she'd been wearing on top of the case and went back by the bed, carefully picking up the alarm clock and resetting the alarm.  Moving to the desk, she jotted down a quick note, telling Vaughn not to worry, that she hadn't been able to sleep and that she'd gone downstairs to get something to eat.

Placing the note by the lamp on the desk, she grabbed her card key and quietly left the room.  In just a couple of minutes, she found herself out in front of the hotel.  She hailed a cab, giving the driver an address a block away from Khasinau's club.

**********__**

_Knock, knock.  "Good evening, Nicholas," Jack said formally.  He indicated the briefcase in his hand.  "Are you free to discuss business now?"_

_Right on time.__  "Sure, Ian," Weiss said dully as he entered his hotel room.  He locked and bolted the door._

"Ja--Ian, there's no one else in here," he said as he mouthed "No bugs."

"It never hurts to double check," Ian responded as he swept the room.  A few minutes later he nodded.  His expression grew grave.

"My sources know nothing of Tippin's whereabouts."  Jack sighed.  "We may be at a dead end."

"What?" Weiss was outraged.  "You mean we flew all this way for _nothing?"_

"I certainly hope not.  I'm still waiting for a call from L.A.," Jack answered.  "Hopefully something's turned up there."

"Maybe Mike and Sydney are getting lucky in Paris," Weiss suggested as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Maybe _what?" Jack asked, fighting for control._

"I said maybe Mike and Sydney are finding something in Paris," Weiss said.  Jack continued to stare at him.  "What?  What did I say?"

"Nothing," Jack finally dismissed what Weiss had unintentionally implied.  _He didn't mean it.  It was just an inappropriate word choice from a distraught, jet-lagged man.  Inappropriate.  Inappropriate words.  Inappropriate actions . . . I'll kill him.  If he so much as considers__ trying anything . . . they'll never find a body. A slight smile crept onto his face.  _

"Nothing at all.  Anyway, as I was saying, maybe Devlin or Davenport will have learned something new to aid us in our search--"  Jack was interrupted by the ringing phone.

"Hello?" Weiss answered.  _Davenport__._

"Really?  Where?  Yes, sir.  Yes, sir.  No, sir, nothing yet.  Anything from Vaughn?  Not yet.  Okay.  Oh, I see.  All right then.  Yes, sir, will do.  Good-bye."  Weiss returned the receiver to its proper place and faced Jack.

"Well?"

"Some of our agents spotted men matching Sark and Tippin's descriptions earlier at the airport.  Looks like this is where they are," Weiss said, the anger evident in his voice.  "Someone overheard them mention they had plans at Calle Huertas tonight."

"Calle Huertas it is," Jack said with a nod.  He glanced at his watch.  "We'll meet at the bar in, say, twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes," Weiss echoed.  "Wait a sec--the bar?  Why not the lobby?"

"The bar," Jack said firmly, then left the room.

************

"This is hopeless," Nicholas moaned into his sangria.  At Jack's--_Ian's--raised eyebrow, he quickly continued.  "We're never going to find the appropriate charity for you to invest in," he corrected himself.  "We've looked everywhere."_

"Nicholas, we left the hotel less than two hours ago," Ian said pointedly.  He placed his folded napkin on the table.  "It takes time to find the proper . . . charity.  We will find it, and when we do, we will make it pay."

The two men sat in silence, gazing at their surroundings from the terrace cafe they were dining at.  To passersby it would have appeared that they were tourists who were trying to gain their bearings; in reality, they were looking for signs that a certain reporter and a certain British operative were in their midst.  Unfortunately, they were no closer to them than they were in Los Angeles.

Twenty minutes later the two agents were wandering through the busy street as the city came to life.

"Ten o'clock," Jack murmured.

Weiss continued walking, glancing slightly to his left with his peripheral vision.  _Bingo.  There was a group of men cavorting outside a nightclub.  The leader of the group had short, blonde hair and was waving them inside._

"Sark," Weiss whispered, unconsciously clenching his fists.

"Self-control," Jack muttered as the two meandered towards the club.  "Self-control."

************

The shrill buzzing slowly worked its way into his consciousness.  Rolling over, he slapped the snooze on the alarm, grateful for the silence that ensued.

Nine minutes later, he smacked the alarm again.  The pattern continued for another half hour, until he finally woke up.  

He sat up slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness which didn't seem quite right.  _It shouldn't be this__ dark at 7:30, he thought as he reached over to switch on the lamp beside the bed.  His hand stilled as he caught sight of the clock.  8:45.  __What__ the hell?_

He quickly turned on the lamp, looking at his watch.  The clock wasn't wrong.  He ran a hand through his hair as he stood.  Rubbing his eyes, he walked over to the couch.  How in the world Sydney had slept through the alarm going off for an hour and fifteen minutes was beyond him.

Standing beside the couch, he knew why.  She wasn't there.  Walking over to the desk, he flipped the switch, knocking over a piece of paper.  He picked it up from the floor, immediately recognizing Sydney's handwriting.

He read it quickly, and, at the mention of food, his stomach rumbled.  Vaughn chuckled quietly.  His reflection stared back at him from the highly polished glass desktop.  As good an idea as food was, he decided on a quick shower first.  The way he looked now, he wondered if he'd even be served at McDonald's.

He pulled a change of clothes and his razor from his suitcase and headed into the bathroom.

Within fifteen minutes, he was downstairs, scanning the restaurant for Sydney.  The hostess appeared.  "Are you joining someone?"

"Yes."

"And what is the name of your party?"

"Stratford.  Meghan Stratford."

The woman looked through the reservations, finding no one by that name.  "I'm sorry, but I don't have a reservation for anyone by that name here.  Are you sure she was going to be dining with us this evening?"

He hadn't misread her note.  He was quite sure of that.  "I thought so.  I must be mistaken.  Sorry."

The woman dismissed him, acknowledging the next pair of diners.  Vaughn heard her repeat her greeting as he walked towards the desk, an uneasy feeling settling over him.

"Ah, M. Harcourt.  Is there something I can do for you?"

"By chance, did you see Mlle. Stratford leave just a little bit ago?"

"Oh oui, Monsieur."

"How long ago?"

The clerk looked at the clock behind him.  "I believe I saw her leave about three hours ago."

"Three hours?" Vaughn shouted.

The desk clerk shrank back.  "Yes.  I think it was around six thirty."

_Fuck!  __Sydney__, please don't be doing what I think you're doing...  Vaughn ran back upstairs to grab his coat.  He pulled the phone from the inside pocket and dialed.  _

A familiar voice answered.  "Allo?"

"I need your help."

"Mike?  Hey, you in Paris?"

"Yeah.  Listen, I can't talk now.  You remember that little cafe I like in Montmartre?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Can you meet me there ASAP?"

"What's going on?" René asked cautiously.

"René, I don't have time to explain.  Can you meet me?"

"Of course.  No problem."

"I need you to bring me a gun."

René hesitated.  "Mike..."

"René, it's important.  Can you do this?"

"Yeah.  Give me, let's say, half an hour."

"Thanks.  I owe you."

"When don't you?" René replied before disconnecting the call.  

Racing back downstairs, he ignored the questioning looks from staff and guests alike as he ran outside and found a cab.****

************


	13. Part 12

Loud, pulsating music rang in Weiss's ears as he and Jack entered the nightclub ten minutes later.  The bar was to the left, the dance floor straight ahead, and what looked like the makings of a brawl was forming to the right.  Without a word Weiss led them to the bar.

After the bartender returned with their drinks, Weiss nudged Jack's shoulder.  "I think I'm gonna check out the dance floor," he said loudly over the din of voices.  He shot a meaningful glance at a corner of the dance floor near Sark's table.

"All right, Nicholas.  I'll stay here," Ian answered, "and make sure the ladies don't attack you all at once."

Weiss looked at him, confused for a second.  Then he remembered the gun Jack was carrying and nodded.

"Hasta luego," he said as he walked away, his drink in his left hand.

Weiss slowly walked through the nightclub, sipping his drink.  _I'm going to kill the bastard, he thought as he glanced at Sark's table._

He leaned against a support beam and sighed.  _Ow__!  That hurts, he thought as he gingerly touched his neck.  __There must be a loose nail or something . . . _

_. . . "Ow!" Weiss said._

_"What's wrong?" Agent Brown asked._

_"I think I hit my head on the beam," he answered._

_"Must have had too much to drink," Agent __Jackson__ said with a grin as he passed a shot glass to Weiss._

_"Well, if that's your worst injury while in __Spain__, I think you're doing well," Brown retorted, watching Weiss empty the glass of its contents._

_"Yeah, yeah.__  So, this is the place to see and be seen?" Weiss asked, changing the subject._

_"All of Calle Huertas is, but we like this club in particular because of all the American women," __Jackson__ said._

_"Yeah, this is the club that lots of tourists frequent, celebrating their trip across the ocean and whatnot.  We're just their official welcoming committee," Brown said with a leer._

_"How can you tell who's American in here when there's so many people?" Weiss asked, glancing around the crowded room._

_"Well, the loud singing is usually a good indicator," Brown answered, nodding towards a group in the corner boisterously singing "Celito Lindo."_

_Weiss sighed, wondering how he could get rid of these two jackasses when he felt a tapping on his shoulder._

_"What--?" he was cut off when a woman vaulted herself at him and began to passionately kiss him.  All coherent thought left his brain as his glimpse of this woman registered in his brain._

_"Zoe!" Weiss exclaimed when the two finally separated.  He lifted her off the ground and crushed her against his chest.  "What are you doing here?"_

_"I live here," he heard her say, muffled against him.  He let her pull back slightly and wrapped his arms around her waist._

_"What are you__ doing here?" she asked, tapping one finger against his chest._

_"Working, believe it or not," he grinned._

_"As a bartender?__  Are you new?" she asked, puzzled._

_Weiss laughed outright.  "Wow, it has been a long time, hasn't it?"_

_"Almost nine years," Zoe replied as she looked him in the eye.  "Nine years."_

_"Zoe, it is so good to see you again," he repeated._

_"Weiss?__  Would you like to introduce us?" he heard Brown and Jackson asking behind him._

_Weiss grimaced and quickly made introductions.  "Zoe and I have a lot of catching up to do," he told his colleagues.  "I think I'll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?"_

_Jackson__ winked knowingly at him.  "Have fun," he said.  He and Brown walked away._

_Weiss smiled at Zoe.  "Shall we?"_

_"Actually, no.__  I can't."_

_"What?  Why not?"_

_Zoe__ sighed.  "Do you see that group of bumbling idiots over there?" She pointed at the "Celito Lindo" group.  "I'm responsible for them."_

_"Your friends?"_

_"No.  My students.  I'm the university rep for study abroad programs," she said.  "And right now, I'm ready to kill them for getting plastered."_

_He brushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead.  "How about I help you get them back to wherever they're staying, and then we can catch up?"_

_"Are you sure you want to?" Zoe asked doubtfully._

_"Trust me, I've been around my share of drunk people.  I can handle it," Weiss answered with a laugh._

_"Not that.  Are you sure you want to catch up? I mean, you're the one who left in the first place," she said as her lower lip trembled._

_He pulled her to him in a long hug before answering, "And I've regretted that decision every day for the last nine years."_

_Weiss stroked her hair as he found himself leaning against the beam again.  The nail began to dig into his neck, but he ignored the jabbing._

"Nicholas.  Nicholas!" Weiss blinked, finally noticing Jack standing in front of him.

"What?"

"They're leaving," Jack said quietly.

"Leaving?" Weiss echoed.  He turned his head towards Sark's table.  It was empty.

"Dammit!" he cursed as Jack exited the club.  He quickly followed behind him.

"What were you doing?" Jack asked in a low tone as Weiss shut the door of the club.  "If I hadn't been watching, we would have lost them entirely."

"Sorry," he muttered.  "I was . . . somewhere else."

"Obviously," Jack said dryly.  He hailed a taxi and opened the door.  "After you."

************

Vaughn waited anxiously outside a cafe for René to arrive.  It was approaching 10:30 when the man for whom he'd been waiting finally approached.

"Sorry," René apologized as he took a seat across from Vaughn.  "Car trouble."

"Do you have something for me?"

"Hey, how ya doin'?  I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"René..."

René looked around before turning his attention back to Vaughn.  "Yeah, I've got what you asked for," he started.  "But before I hand it over, I want to know what's going on."

"I can't tell you."

That one sentence told René all he needed to know.  "Do you need any help?"

Vaughn shook his head.  "Thanks, but no."

"Okay."  He handed Vaughn a book.  "I don't think you've read this one lately."

Vaughn accepted it gratefully.  "No, I haven't."  He flipped the book over, pretending to read the cover.  Looking back up at his friend, he said, "I really need to go."

"Yeah, but Mike..."

"What?"

"Next time you're in town, you owe me a beer."

Vaughn smiled briefly.  Standing, he patted his friend's shoulder as he walked away from the table.  He slipped into the alley next to the cafe, pulling the gun from its resting place inside the hollowed out book.

Shoving the gun in his pocket, he deposited the book in one of the many trash cans that lined the street as he quickly covered the two blocks between the cafe and Khasinau's club.  Sydney had been gone, as far as he knew, for over four hours.  

He pushed the thought from his mind, focusing on finding a way inside the darkened building instead.  The third door he found was unlocked, or, more accurately, the lock had been picked.  Pulling his gun, he opened the door, stepping inside quickly.

Vaughn waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he began a careful search of the club.  From Sydney's debriefing, he had a general idea of the location of Khasinau's office.  

_Where are the guards? he wondered as he moved slowly up the stairs.  He was on the second floor landing when he saw a small stream of light coming from underneath the door at the far end of the hall._

He held still, watching as the light continued to shine unwaveringly.  Vaughn quietly walked down the hall.  When he reached the door, he heard a noise, a low moan, from inside.  

He broke through the door without thinking, searching the room for the woman who'd uttered the sound he'd just heard.  Frantically searching the room, his eyes finally came to rest on a barely-conscious Sydney Bristow.

************

"Vaughn?"  She looked around the room still dazed.  "What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me.  Can you stand up?" he asked as he stood, holding out his hand.

Sydney shook her head gently, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind.  Grasping his hand, she pulled herself up.  She leaned back into the corner for support when the room started to spin.

"Syd?"

"Stood up too fast," she explained.

Vaughn kept his hands on her shoulders, trying to help keep her balanced.  When she tried to lean down to retrieve her flashlight, he had to grab her to keep her from falling.  "Hey," he said as he pushed her back against the wall, "I'll get it.  You just stay put."

As he moved away, she grabbed his arm.  "Wait a minute."

"What?"

Sydney walked around him, using him for balance.  Pointing to the floor, she looked back at him.  "The floorboard is loose there.  I tripped on it when I came in.  Must have hit my head on the corner of the desk."

He followed to where she was pointing and saw the board in question.  He walked carefully around it and retrieved the flashlight.  

He crouched down next to the board, shining the light all around it to see if there was something underneath.  Satisfied that the floor there was just uneven, he stood, handing the light back to Sydney.  "Did you have a chance to look around before you fell?"

"Not in here.  I did check the other offices though.  Didn't find anything.  Not even any guards."

_Weird...  "Okay, let's look around and get out of here."  _

"Sounds good to me," Sydney answered as she moved slowly around the desk.

Sydney searched the desk while Vaughn looked around the rest of the room.  After a couple of minutes, he went over to the desk.  "Find anything?"

"Maybe," she answered.

"What is it?"

"It's an address.  Looks like Khasinau is going to be meeting someone there tomorrow at 2."

_This is too easy, Vaughn thought as he took the paper from her, shoving it in his pocket.  "Let's go."_

They exited the room, working their way quietly back down the hall.  They were almost to the door when they heard a noise from the back of the building.  "Come on," Vaughn whispered as he pulled Sydney back outside, her hand firmly grasped in his own.

He led her back down the alley towards the street.  Just as he was about to go around the corner, he heard someone approaching.  Taking a quick step back, he turned, pushing Sydney back against the closest wall.  

"What's wrong?" she managed to get out a moment before his lips captured hers in a hard, demanding kiss.  Her initial shock soon gave way to understanding as she saw a man step up behind them.  Deciding two could play this game, she snaked her hands around his waist, pulling him closer while she deepened the kiss.

"Excuse me.  You folks wanna move it back to the hotel?" a guard smirked after watching them for a minute.  "This area is off limits."

Vaughn pulled back, breathless, his finger slowly running down the side of Sydney's cheek.  He looked back at the guard, "Sorry, just couldn't help myself," he replied as leaned back in, nipping playfully at her lower lip. 

The guard took a good look at Sydney, leering at her.  "I can't say as I blame you." 

Sydney's grip on Vaughn's hand tightened.  Drawing her to his side, Vaughn draped his arm casually around her shoulder.  "Maybe he's right.  We should go back to the hotel, don't you agree, honey?"

Sydney nodded silently, not trusting her voice.  Vaughn smiled back at the guard.  "Sorry for the trouble.  We really didn't mean any harm."

The guard just looked at them.  "Just get going."

"Thanks."  Vaughn led her out of the alley.  He wrapped his arm protectively around her waist and pulled her closer to him, kissing her cheek as they walked quickly past the club.

The guard watched as they made their way up the street.  Shaking his head, he turned to greet a man walking towards him.  "Did you get that?"

A lecherous smile crossed his companion's face.  "Oh yeah.  Did they find the note?"

The guard glanced back up the street.  "Oh yeah."

************

Vaughn didn't release his hold on Sydney until the reached the cafe where he'd met René less than an hour before.  He pulled out a chair for her.  "I'm going to go inside and call a cab.  Sit," he ordered.  "And don't move."

Sydney nodded.  He was almost inside when she called him back to the table.  "Can you get me something to drink?"

"Sure."

She leaned back in the chair.  Her head was starting to throb.  Reaching up, she was feeling around for a bump when Vaughn returned.  He handed her the water.  "The cab will be here in a few minutes.  Are you okay?" his worry evident in his tone.

"I've got a little bit of a headache, that's all."

Vaughn studied her quietly.  She'd scared the hell out of him and he wasn't going to let it pass, but he wasn't prepared to get into it with her in a busy outdoor cafe.  "Maybe we should have you see the hotel doctor."

"Really, Vau...," _not Vaughn, she reminded herself.  "Sebastien, it's no big deal."_

Vaughn saw the cab pull up to the curb.  He walked over.  The driver leaned over to the passenger side of the car.  Lowering the window, he asked "M. Harcourt?"

"Oui, c'est moi."  He went back to the table, holding out his hand to Sydney.  "Shall we?"

Sydney placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the cab.  She settled herself as Vaughn gave the driver the address.    

************

"I don't believe it," Weiss groaned as he entered the hotel room two hours later.  "Paseo de la Castellana, Pacha, Gran Via . . . and it wasn't them."  Dejected, he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, wishing that this nightmare would end.

"Keep your voice down," Jack warned as he quickly checked for bugs.  Satisfied, he sat down in the chair next to the window.  "Obviously, the intel from Devlin was faulty, and it was just a group of people who looked similar to Tippin and Sark."

"Or was it?" Weiss sat up suddenly.

"What?"

"Was it faulty intel--or was this part of Sark's plan?" Weiss asked angrily.

"Send a group here that would include two people resembling himself and Tippin, to throw us off the trail," Jack said slowly.  He thought about it for a minute, then nodded.  "It's possible."

"We need to call L.A. and let them know what we found out," Weiss said, rubbing his eyes.  "I'll make the call."  He stood up and walked over to his suitcase, removing the secure phone he'd been given in Newark.

"Hello?  Hi, Mr. Davenport . . . Yes, it's Weiss here.  Well, we followed up on your intel.  Yes, we did.  Yes, sir.  Well, we have bad news.  It wasn't them.  Yes, we're positive.  Saw it with our own eyes . . . they look similar, but it's not them.  Just a group of friends traveling from the States."  Weiss rolled his eyes and moved the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Ask him if he's heard from Paris," Jack mouthed to him.  

Weiss nodded.

"What?  Photos from the airport?  Oh, okay.  Well, that's fine.  We'll still be in the hotel, I guess," he said as he shrugged his shoulders at Jack.  "Okay, we'll review the photos and get back to you. Yes, sir.  Yes, sir.  All right.  Okay, good--"

"Paris!" Jack exclaimed.

"Oh, right.  Um, have you heard anything from Paris?"  

Weiss listened for a few minutes.  "Yeah . . . yeah . . . uh huh.  Anything else?  Okay.  Will do.  'Bye."

"Well?" Jack asked as Weiss hung up the phone.

"They landed safely," Weiss said lamely.

"What?"

"They landed safely," Weiss repeated.  "That's all he was able to tell me.  Oh, and they've checked into their hotel using their aliases.  But that's all he said."

"Do you mean to tell me that he said _nothing regarding their investigation?"_

"Just that they hadn't reported in with any information," Weiss said nervously.  _Jack is not __a happy camper, he thought to himself._

"So, as far as we know, we've come to a dead end, and they haven't found anything worth reporting."  Jack sighed.

"Um, yeah.  Oh, Davenport said he's going to send in photos off the surveillance tape at the airport for us to look at to verify that Sark didn't land here," Weiss said.

"Fine.  Why don't we call it a night?" Jack suggested.   "Unless we receive the photos, why don't we plan to meet in six hours?"

Weiss looked at his watch, calculating the time, and shrugged.  "Works for me," he said.

"I'll see you then," Jack said, then left the room.

************

"I really appreciate your coming up," Vaughn said gratefully as he showed the doctor to the door.

"That's what I'm here for," the doctor kindly answered.  "Now, you need to make sure that your young lady stays quiet and gets some rest.  The aspirin should take care of her headache, but if she complains of it getting worse, or nausea, or you can't wake her, call me immediately," he finished, handing Vaughn his card.

Vaughn nodded.  "Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

Vaughn watched as the middle-aged man walked down the hall to the stairs.  He closed the door quietly and went back into the room.  When he found Sydney sitting on the couch, he lost it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing out of that bed?"

"Sitting on the couch," she replied defiantly.

"Like hell you are," he swore, grabbing her by the wrists and dragging her back to the bed and sitting her down carefully.  He sat down next to her.  "Sydney..."

_Great... Not Syd, she thought, __but __Sydney__.  She looked over at him to find him staring at the floor, muttering words she couldn't hear.  "What?"_

He lifted his gaze.  "Don't you EVER do that again!" he stated angrily.

It wasn't like she didn't know what he was referring to, but she just couldn't say she was sorry.  Not yet.  "Do what?"

Vaughn's mouth fell open as his face contorted in anger.  He forgot about being gentle and grabbed her roughly, shaking her.  "DON'T YOU EVER GO SNEAKING OFF ALONE LIKE THAT AGAIN!"  Abruptly, he released her and got up, walking over to the windows.

Sydney sat on the bed, stunned by his actions.  _I didn't mean for this to happen... "Vaughn..." she began softly.  _

He turned back to face her.  "What?"

She looked at him for a moment before shifting her gaze to the floor.  _To hell with not apologizing.__  "I'm sorry."_

He exhaled loudly.  He walked over to the bed and sat back down.  "You scared me."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"Vaughn..."

He placed a finger to her lips, silencing her.  "No, Sydney, you don't know.  With everything that has happened in the last two days, when I didn't find you downstairs, I got _scared."_

She opened her mouth to speak but he just shook his head, "Let me finish."  He watched as she silently agreed before continuing.

"When the desk clerk said that he saw you leave three hours earlier, I didn't know what to think.  At first, I thought maybe you went for a walk or something.  You know, maybe you did do what your note said."  

He paused briefly and went to the desk, returning with the note.  "But I knew that it wouldn't take you three hours to find a place to eat, even if you were mad at me."

"Mad..."

Again he cut her off.  "Yes, mad.  But even if you were mad, I knew, _I knew, that you would have been back by the time I had planned on being up."_

Sydney looked away, his pained expression and the worry in his voice tearing at her.

"Syd, look at me.  Please."

She looked back at him, tears forming in her eyes.  She was surprised to see tears in his as well.

"I came back up here and that's when I realized I didn't even have a gun.  Neither did you.  And I did something I shouldn't have."

"What?"

"I called a friend.  Someone I knew I could trust.  But see, even then I had to wait for him to meet me.  And if something would have happened to you... If you'd been hurt, I mean seriously injured, I might have been too late."

Sydney reached over, placing her hand over Vaughn's.  "But I'm fine."

Vaughn got up quickly, walking back to the windows.  "No, you aren't.  Because you went off by yourself, you got hurt.  Damn it, Syd!  I was worried.  And then when I found you, lying on that floor..."

She didn't care that he was probably going to yell at her for getting up.  "Vaughn, really, I'm ok.  You found me," she replied, trying to reassure him.

"But what if I hadn't?" he asked softly.  "What if I had gotten there fifteen minutes later?  Those guards who were patrolling the building would have found you.  And then we'd be looking for you as well.  Or maybe we wouldn't have had to."

Sydney looked away briefly after he said that.  She hadn't been thinking clearly when she'd stormed off to Khasinau's club.  He was right, she'd been mad and she'd been blinded by that anger, blinded by everything that had happened since they'd gotten on the plane at Newark. 

She turned back to face him and found him staring out the window.  She closed the small gap between them, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.  "I'm sorry.  I won't do it again.  I promise."

_I could have lost you...  Vaughn tightened his embrace.  __Jack Bristow and his warning be damned.  He slowly pulled back and grasped her hand in his, leading her to the bed._

He pulled the covers back and sat her down.  "Shoes, off," he ordered.

She smiled up at him.  "Yes, sir," she replied, offering him a mock salute.

He just rolled his eyes.  "Lie down."

Sydney pulled her legs up on to the bed and watched as he pulled the covers over her, tucking them under the edge of the bed. She couldn't move.  "Vaughn," she whined.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"I can't move."

A huge grin flashed across his face.  "I know."

She looked at him, a wicked smile spreading slowly across her face.  "You honestly think this will stop me from getting up?  The other side isn't tucked in."

"You know, you're right.  That probably wouldn't be a very effective way of making sure you stay put."  

He walked over to the couch to retrieve the pillow and blanket she'd left there earlier.  

He moved back to the other side of the bed, dropping the pillow on top of it.  Sydney just watched him, wondering what he was going to do.

She found out quickly as he laid down on top of the comforter, pulling the blanket he'd gotten off the couch around him.

The sheets and blankets were pulled even tighter against her.  "Vaughn, I can't move."

"I know."

"No, I mean I really can't move."

He rolled on to his side and watched her struggle to get free.  "Do you promise not to go anywhere?"

She sighed.  "Yes."

"Do you promise to get some sleep?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Yes."

"Okay," he said as he got up.  Walking around to the other side, he pulled the blankets from under the bed.  "That better?"

Sydney breathed a sigh of relief.  "Yes."

"Good."  He went back to the other side and grabbed the blanket and pillow and moved over to the couch.

She sat up quickly, her head throbbing in protest at the sudden movement.  "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to try and get some sleep."

She started to get up, but quickly changed her mind when she saw his feet hit the floor.  "Vaughn, let me sleep on the couch."

"Nope, you got hurt, you get the bed."

"So if you were the one who was hurt, you'd be over here?"

"Good night, Sydney."  He reached out and turned off the lamp on the desk.

"Well, maybe..."

"Don't even think about it, Bristow.  Just close your eyes and get some sleep."

Sydney pouted for a minute.  Lying back down when she saw Vaughn wasn't going to budge, she rolled over to turn off the light next to her.  "Night, Vaughn."

He let out an exasperated sigh as he turned on his side, praying for sleep.  "Good night, Syd."  

"Oh and thanks."

Vaughn turned over yet again, the couch squeaking in protest.  "For what?"

"Finding me."

**********__**


	14. Part 13

_"You work for the CIA?" Zoe was incredulous.  "You?"_

_"Hey, you make it sound like it's a bad thing," Weiss said in a wounded tone._

_"No--the CIA's a great place to work . . . I just never thought it was a place where you__ would work," Zoe said, the shock still evident on her face._

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"Come on, Eric, it's me you're talking to.  I still remember the way you charmed professors into giving you good grades, convinced them you didn't need to do the same assignments everyone else did.  I remember the yo-yos that occupied your time more than your econ books ever did."  She leaned forward from her seat on the couch as she spoke to him._

_"I'm a changed man," Weiss said proudly._

_"Oh, yeah?"_

_"Yeah."_

_She looked at him smugly.  "I bet you ten dollars that there's a yo-yo in your pocket right now."_

_"A bet, huh?"_

_"Ten bucks says you're carrying a yo-yo."_

_"Well, you're wrong."  He quickly shoved his hands in his pockets and then removed them, his hands still empty.  "Just my wallet."_

_"What about this pocket?" she asked as her hand slipped inside his jacket.  He stopped breathing as her hand brushed against his chest.  "Aha!  And what do we have here?" she asked triumphantly as she produced a shiny yo-yo._

_Weiss groaned.  Two hotel clerks looked up at the pair occupying the lobby._

_"That will be ten dollars, sir," she said as she held out her hand.  "Pay up, or the yo-yo's mine."_

_"That's highway robbery!  That's not even a high-quality yo-yo!" he argued._

_"Does this mean that I am now the proud owner of one red yo-yo?" Zoe asked, pushing her hair behind her ears._

_"No, I'll just have to steal it back," Weiss said menacingly as he lunged at her._

_"No!" she screamed.  "Get your hands off me!"_

_The hotel clerks watched, amused by the scene unfolding._

_"I will as soon as you give it back to me!"_

_"It's mine, fair and square!"_

_"Is not!"__ Weiss grabbed the yo-yo from her and held it in his hands._

_"Is too!"__ Zoe lunged for the yo-yo, grabbed it, and stuffed it down her shirt._

_"Why you little . . ." Weiss trailed off.  He stared at the lump in the middle of her chest, then stared into her eyes.  He swallowed.  I think we're playing a different game now__, he thought to himself . . . ._

Weiss sat up in the bed.  "Zoe?" he called out as he tried to remember where he was.  He had one minute of blissful ignorance before the events of the last two days came rushing back to him.  _It was just a dream.  She's not really here._

He grabbed the pillow that lay beside him and hugged it to his chest, wishing it was her instead.  It had been a dream, a wonderful dream, a dream that had actually happened.  The night they found each other again.

Weiss could feel the tears returning to his eyes.  "No," he said out loud.  "No more tears.  Not now."  Rising from the bed, he quickly dressed and headed downstairs, making sure he had his wallet and his room key.

It wouldn't make the pain go away, but it might dull it a little, he thought as he walked into the bar.

************

"Ian, I didn't expect to see you here."  Jack turned around and saw Weiss sit down next to him.  He ordered his drink in perfect Spanish.

"I'm impressed," Jack said.  "You sound like a native."

"I had a lot of practice," Weiss admitted.  "I studied it in school, and then I went on some trips here and in Mexico."  He looked away for a moment, then continued.  "And Zoe was always practicing her Spanish--she was afraid she'd lose it if she didn't speak it daily.  I was her partner."

"I see," Jack said, then let the man focus on his drink.

"You haven't received the package yet, have you?"

"No.  Have you heard from our offices in Paris?"

Weiss shook his head.  "I'm sure they're fine," he encouraged.

"Someday, when it's your daughter we're discussing you'll understand," Jack stated solemnly.

"I don't know that I'll ever have a daughter," Weiss said softly.  He took a gulp from his drink.

The two men sat in silence, each ordering a new drink and quietly finishing it.

"You know, you're going to be drunk if you don't watch out," Jack pointed out.

"I hope so."  Weiss signaled for the bartender.

"Tell him to deliver the bottle to my room," Jack ordered.

"What?" Weiss stared at him.

"If you're going to get drunk, at least don't do so publicly," Jack chided.  "On second thought, have him deliver two bottles."

"Um, Ian?"

"Yes?"

"I didn't bring enough money down here for two bottles," Weiss admitted.

Jack pulled out his wallet and threw several bills on the counter.  "That should cover it."

"Muchas gracias," Weiss said.

The corners of Jack's lips turned up very slightly.  "De nada," he answered.

************

"Is it really prudent for you to continue drinking?" Jack asked.  He glanced around his hotel room.  The first bottle, emptied long ago, lay near the trash can; Weiss had missed his three-point shot earlier.

"Shut up, Jack, and pour," Weiss said in a slurred voice.  He held out his glass.

"You're going to be sorry tomorrow," Jack warned, but nevertheless poured him a generous amount.  He filled a second glass for himself.

"Tomorrow's gonna be a bitch anyway.  Might as well make some of the pain go away tonight," Weiss said easily.  He shoved his glass in Jack's face.  "More."

"Pour it yourself," Jack told him, handing him the bottle.  Weiss lifted the bottle to his lips and quickly drained it as Jack watched, slightly amused.

"Is there a stash in here?"  Weiss staggered across the room to the refrigerator that was tucked in the corner.  He opened its door and whistled.  "Jackpot!"  He laughed at his joke, pulling another practically full bottle out and holding it up.  "You've been holding out on me," he said as he returned to his chair.  "Care to join me?"

Jack opened his mouth, forming the word "no" when he heard himself say, "Fine."  _Where did that come from?  Maybe Weiss is right.  Tomorrow probably won't be any better--might as well forget for tonight._

The two men sat in the room in silence, slowly drinking from their respective glasses.  After several minutes, Weiss spoke.

"I can understand why you started drinking after Laura died."

Jack stared at him.  "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I guess I shouldn't have said anything.  It's just that Mike mentioned that Sydney found you one day recently at a bar and they wondered if you were off the wagon.  That was the first time I heard that the infallible Jack Bristow had a weakness."  Weiss grabbed the bottle and poured himself another, spilling more on the table than he managed to get in the glass.

"I . . . I am known to enjoy a drink on occasion," Jack said through pursed lips.

Weiss chuckled.  "Jack, you've enjoyed enough drinks tonight to last you through Christmas.  Come on, level with me.  I promise I won't report you or anything.  Did you or did you not get plastered on a regular basis after Laura died--disappeared--oh, hell, you know what I mean."

"It helped me forget," he finally answered.  "Just as you're hoping to forget now."

"Damn, thanks a lot, Jack.  I was just beginning to forget about the last couple of days," Weiss groaned.  He walked unevenly to the window and looked out.  "Seriously, though, does it ever get better?"

"What?"

"Does the pain ever go away?  Do you ever stop aching inside from losing the woman you love?  Do you start to forget she even existed?" Weiss ended on a worried note.  This was rapidly becoming his fear, that he would soon forget the details that made Zoe unique--the scent of her perfume, the wink she would always give him to let him know she was teasing, the feeling he had when she slipped her small hand into his.

Jack sighed and downed the rest of his drink.

"Well?" Weiss prompted.

"The pain--it gets better.  Eventually.  But the first year . . . that's the hardest," he said slowly.

"First birthday without her, first Christmas without her?" Weiss guessed.

Jack smiled wryly.  "That too.  Of course, my situation was far from ordinary.  The first year after Laura . . . _left, for lack of a better word, I was under suspicion at the Agency.  My first year was rather atypical."_

"But still," Weiss continued, "you loved her, right?"

Jack toyed with the glass in his hand.  Why was he talking about this?  And to Eric Weiss, a man he hardly even knew.  "Yes," he said, the emotion in his voice evident.  "I loved her in a way I had never loved a woman before.  Or since."  His eyes took on a faraway expression, as if he were transported back in time.  "I can still see the way she looked when we first met.  She was so beautiful--Sydney looks a lot like her, you know--but that wasn't what attracted me to her.  Not entirely.  Being with her . . . I felt alive, in a way that I had never felt before.  We lived the storybook life, complete with our own little princess."  Jack sobered, his eyes turning cold.  "And then I learned the truth."

Weiss silently handed him the nearly empty bottle.  Jack quickly finished it off.

"I think it's time to call it a night," Jack said.  "You're going to hate yourself in the morning."

"I already do," Weiss replied.  "I already do."  He stood up and staggered to the door.  "Good night."

"Good night."

"Jack?" Weiss paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"Yes?"

"Thanks.  For telling me about Laura."  Without another word, Weiss shut the door behind him.

************

_The glass crunched under his feet.  No matter how careful he was to step around it, somehow the glass managed to find its way under his shoe.  _

_He took one last look around the main floor before heading up the stairs to the offices.  She had to be here somewhere, he just knew it. _

_The first door he opened held nothing but the normal office accoutrements.  He looked around, deciding that all was as it should be before going to the next office._

_He continued the pattern until he finally reached the one at the far end of the hall.  He opened the door cautiously.  Everything up to this point had gone better than he could have dared hoped.  _

_He'd conducted his search without being discovered.  But it had taken much longer than he'd thought it would.  And it was time that he feared most._

_He stepped into the room, shining the small flashlight around.  The office was trashed, the desk up-ended, chairs tipped over, the computer smashed._

_He moved a bit further into the room, shining the light into first one corner, then the next.  He shined the light into the last corner of the room and froze._

_He didn't know how long he stood there before he finally stepped closer.  One look at her and he knew he was too late.  He hadn't gotten there in time..._

"SYDNEY!" Vaughn shouted, sitting straight up on the couch.  He swung his legs around, his feet landing on the ground.  Resting his elbows on his knees, he let his head drop into his hands.

"Vaughn?" Sydney asked worriedly.  "What's wrong?"

_It was just a dream.  A horrible dream...  "It's nothing.  Just go back to sleep."_

He didn't hear her approach.  When she sat down next to him, he could barely make out her shape in the darkness.

She reached out, touching his shoulder.  She quickly pulled her hand back.  "My God, you're shaking," she whispered.

Vaughn scooted towards the opposite end of the couch.  "It was just a bad dream.  I'm fine."

She closed the space between them.  "I don't believe you."

"Sydney, it was just a dream.  Really, I'm fine," he repeated as he got up and went to the bathroom.

She heard him turn on the water and got up, standing outside the door.  He hadn't closed it completely, and she watched as he leaned heavily against the marble sink.

"Vaughn, I'm coming in," she announced, just before she opened the door and entered the small room.

Vaughn turned to look at her.  He smiled weakly.  "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Will you tell me what it was about?"

He shook his head.  _To say it out loud might make it real...  He turned back to the sink and shut off the water.  _

Sydney moved beside him.  "Vaughn, please."  She put her hand on the side of his face.  "Tell me."

He reached out, his finger tracing along the bump that had formed on her forehead.  He closed his eyes.  _It could have been so much worse..._

She cocked her head to the side, studying him.  Because he looked like he needed it, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

He didn't resist.  He couldn't.  He needed to know that she was alive.  He needed to feel her soft breath on his neck.  He needed her warmth to chase away the cold that had worked its way into his soul.  He needed her.

"Sydney," he sighed.

"Sshh.  It's okay," she answered quietly, her hand gently running over his hair.  She started to move away, but he tightened his grip, refusing to let her go.

"Don't."

"I won't.  Don't worry."  She stepped back, breaking the embrace.  Linking her hand in his, she led him out of the bathroom, deciding to leave the light on.  There had been too much darkness for one night.

When he let go of her hand and headed back the couch, she pulled him back, shaking her head.  "No."

She smiled at his confusion.  Lying back down, she scooted to the other side of the bed.  When he continued to just stand there, she patted the bed.  "Lie down."

"Sydney..."

She didn't speak.  She just shook her head and patted the bed again.  When he didn't move, she leaned over, grasping his hand gently, drawing him to her.

"Sydney, we—"

"Are going to sleep.  That's all," she finished before he could voice his objection.

He sat down on the edge of the bed reluctantly.  After a minute, he gave in, swinging his legs onto the bed and pulling the covers over them both.  He rolled onto his side so he could face her.  

"I'm so sorry about what I said yesterday.  You know that, don't you?"

Sydney nodded.  "I know."

Vaughn watched as she settled her head on the pillow.  She yawned, and he smiled.  "Good night."

"Night," she answered tiredly, turning so that her back was to him.

He closed his eyes.  He was almost asleep again when he thought he heard her voice.  "Did you say something?" he asked quietly.

"Um, would you mind..." her voice trailed off.

"Would I mind what?"

Sydney stared at the wall, afraid of what he might say to her request.

"Syd?" he asked, moving a little closer.

She swallowed hard.  _You can do this Bristow...  "Vaughn," she paused, taking a deep breath.  "Michael, would you just hold me?  Please?"_

He was surprised to hear her use his given name.  He reached over, pulling her back to him.  He wrapped his arms protectively around her as she snuggled closer.  Laying his head back on the pillow, he closed his eyes as sleep claimed them both.

************

Sunlight streamed through the windows several hours later when someone knocked on Weiss's door.

"This had better be good," he grumbled to himself as he walked to the door.  The sunlight had blinded him when he'd opened his eyes.  He felt like he'd swallowed a bale of cotton.  The little jackhammer drilling away inside his head wasn't helping matters either.

"The package is here," Jack said gruffly as he pushed Weiss aside and entered the room.

"When did it show up?" he asked as he stumbled to the window, pulling the curtains closed.

"Just a few minutes ago.  Apparently the agent tried to deliver it to your room first, but you wouldn't answer your door.  She delivered it to me instead."

"Oh," Weiss said as he shook the cobwebs from his brain.  _Aspirin, I know there has to be some here somewhere...  "Well, what's inside?"_

"I don't know.  I thought I would wait until I made sure you were awake.  How's your head?" Jack asked as he fiddled with the envelope.

He finally found the aspirin.  "It's been worse," Weiss lied.  _Water... Bathroom...  Water in the bathroom...  "But thanks for asking."_

Jack nodded, then opened the large, padded envelope as Weiss disappeared into the bathroom.  He returned a moment later, a half-drained glass in his hand.  

"The agent relayed that we are supposed to open this immediately," Jack said in an aggravated voice.

"What?  Like we're just going to push it aside for a few days?" Weiss asked incredulously.  "Man, she must be new."

"Weiss?"

"Yeah?"

"Didn't you say that Davenport was requesting still photos from the airport?" Jack inquired.

"Yeah.  A few photos from the security cameras to verify that the guys we followed last night weren't Sark and Tippin," Weiss answered as he searched for aspirin in his suitcase.

"Incompetent agents," Jack cursed.  He held up a videotape.  "Looks like someone was too lazy to convert the video to photos."

"Where are we going to find a VCR?" Weiss asked.

"I'll ask downstairs," Jack said as he stood up.  "I'll be back in a few minutes."  He closed the door behind him.

Weiss grabbed some clothes and headed back to the bathroom.  As he stood in the shower he realized they still hadn't heard anything from Paris.  _I hope they're all right, he worried to himself.  __And I hope they're making better progress than we are.  But they'd better leave __Sark__ for me, he thought as quickly dried off with a towel.  __Sark__ is all mine._

He was buttoning up his shirt when there was another knock on the door.  "Coming," Weiss called as he peered through the peephole.  "Long time, no see," he said as Jack entered the room carrying a VCR.

"On loan from downstairs," Jack said as he placed it on top of the television set.  He quickly plugged it in.  "Where's the video?"

"Over here," Weiss answered as he picked it up and handed it to Jack.

Jack placed the tape in the VCR and pressed "play."

"Here goes nothing," Weiss said.

They were greeted by a black screen.

"Do you have the remote?" Weiss asked after several seconds of nothing.

"No," Jack answered as the screen suddenly changed.

Except it wasn't an image of the airport that the two agents saw.

"What the hell?" Weiss blurted out.  He looked over at Jack, who was staring back at him.

There, on the television screen, was the image of a house, the bright lights from the inside contrasting with the dark night.  Cars were parked alongside the street, and a hedge could be seen on one side.

Without warning, the time appeared in the corner of the screen.  "10:02 p.m."

"Oh my God," Weiss gasped as the front door of the house opened, and a petite woman walked outside.  She pulled a cell phone out of her purse and began to dial a number.  Moments later, she was talking animatedly, pushing her auburn hair out of her eyes as a breeze blew.

The woman walked to a parked car and paused.  As she continued to talk on the phone, a man dressed in black crept through the front door of the house.

"No," Weiss moaned.  He watched as she placed her purse on the hood of the car, apparently looking for something.  Behind her, two more men entered the house.  A few minutes later she ended her call and placed the phone in her purse.  After one last unsuccessful search, she picked up her purse and turned around, walking towards the front door once more.

The backdrop suddenly changed to the interior of the house as Jack and Weiss watched, horrified.  Weiss no longer had to wonder what Zoe's face looked like as she went to hell and back; the image was now burned in his memory.  The two agents stared at the screen as audio was now joined with video, inflicting terror in both men.

"Let her go.  She won't go far," they heard Sark say as Zoe stumbled out the front door.

"Come on," Weiss pleaded, even as he knew what must be coming.  "Just a little farther and you would be safe."

Zoe weaved through the front yard, slowly moving towards her car.  Jack noticed that her car keys were now dangling from her right hand.  He cursed.  If only she hadn't left them inside . . .

In the corner of the screen, Jack noticed a new car.  "Someone else pulled up," he said in a low voice.  Someone stepped out of the car and walked towards Zoe.

"It looks like a woman," Weiss said.  "See?" he said, pointing.  "Doesn't that look like a purse to you?"

Jack nodded in agreement, eyes narrowing as his heart lurched.  _No.  It wasn't possible . . ._

"Come on, lady, help her!" Weiss ordered the woman on the screen.

The two men watched as the woman approached Zoe.  "I don't get it," Weiss said, puzzled.  "We didn't find any other bodies."

"I don't think she was harmed by Sark and his men," Jack answered as they watched the two women on the screen.  The stranger was leading Zoe away from her car.

"Why's she doing that?" Weiss asked out loud.

Jack said nothing, staring at the television.  Somehow he wasn't surprised when the woman removed a syringe from her purse and quickly stabbed it into Zoe's neck.  Zoe instantly crumpled to the ground, next to the hedge.  Her killer placed the needle back in her purse and leaned down, picking something up off the ground.

The killer walked away and met Sark and his men in the front yard.  Jack and Weiss strained, trying to hear any audio or read their lips, but it was pointless.

Sark got in the killer's car and sped off.  The two men headed in the direction of the other vehicle.

Only the killer remained.  She walked to Zoe's car and unlocked the doors.  _She took Zoe's keys, Weiss realized as the car sped off into the night._

The screen held an image of the safe house for a few moments, then went black.

Jack stood up and turned off the television, the shock evident on his face.

"She would be alive right now if it wasn't for that woman," Weiss said sorrowfully.  "What kind of woman could kill an innocent person like Zoe?"

Jack swallowed hard, then looked into Weiss's eyes.  "My wife."

************


	15. Part 14

He was in a fire—his hair was scorching, his face was scorching, his limbs were burning off.  Then he was frozen, immobilized.  Meanwhile, dozens of images flashed through his mind—riding bicycles with Amy as a child, arguing with his parents that he wanted to study journalism, promising to go with Francie to that new club.  But mostly, his thoughts were of his investigation—Danny's murder, the mysterious Kate Jones, the even more mysterious Eloise Kurtz, Jack Bristow, British Dude, and Sydney.

Sydney . . . .  "I'm going to die," he murmured.  Instantly there were cool hands on his forehead, wiping his brow, lessening the scorching feeling which had returned.  

"You're not going to die," a woman's voice said softly as she caressed his face. "Not if I have anything to do with it."  

Will slowly opened his eyes and peered at the face before him.   _It couldn't be . . . but it was._

"Sydney!" he gasped as he tried to raise himself to a sitting position.  "How did you get here?"  

Sydney only smiled.  "Don't worry about that," she said as she pushed him back down onto the bed.  

_Don't go there, Will.  This is neither the time nor the place for that. _

"We need to focus on you for now.  Go on, go back to sleep," she soothed.

Will nodded and returned to his fitful dreams.  He had been asleep for about fifteen minutes when the doctor returned.  

"I didn't expect you to still be here," he said, the surprise evident in his voice.  

"Just checking out the competition," she said ruefully.  

"Competition?  But Tippin doesn't compare—"  

"Oh, not like that," she laughed.  "But he _does know Sydney more than I do." She sat at the edge of the bed for another minute, lost in thought.  Suddenly she stood and turned to face the doctor, her face now hardened into the expression he was familiar with.  "But not for long." _

************

"Your wife?" Weiss asked incredulously.

Jack got up, removing the tape from the VCR.  "Yes."

"But why?  Why would she do that?"

"Mr. Weiss, I don't know, but I intend to find out," he answered as he searched for the phone.  Calling Devlin's number, he only had to wait through two rings before it was picked up. 

"Yes?"

"Ben, it's Jack."

"Have you found something?"

"Actually, I think something found us," Jack answered cryptically.

"Care to explain?"

Jack did, including the information about Laura being involved.  "How many people know about this, Ben?"

Devlin was silent for a moment.  "About what?"

"About what we are doing.  About our covers.  How many?"

There was silence from the other end.  Finally, Devlin answered.  "Ten.  The four of you, Davenport, myself, and four agents who analyzed the audio and created your new identities."

"One of those ten people is the mole.  We need to find out which one."

"I'll start looking into it."

"What would you like us to do here?"

"At this point, until I know something more, I want you to stay put.  If you get any other packages, I want to know about it.  Immediately.

"Fine."  Jack paused.  "Have you heard anything from Paris?"

"Vaughn called in last night after they checked out Khasinau's club."

"Did they find anything?"

"Yes, a piece of paper listing an address and a time.  They should be checking it out now."

"Well, hopefully, they won't just be chasing shadows," Jack mumbled, more to himself than Devlin.

"Jack, Davenport just came in.  I'll talk with you later."

Jack turned off the phone, handing it to Weiss.  "Did Mike and Sydney turn up anything in Paris?" Weiss asked.

"Yes.  Devlin expected a report from them soon."

"So what are we supposed to do in the mean time?"

Jack took a seat next to the couch.  "We wait."

************

"I think we should split up.  Do you want the gardens or the building?" Vaughn asked when they approached the entrance to the Musée Rodin.

Sydney had noticed how anxious he'd been ever since they'd left the hotel.  She'd even asked him what was wrong a couple of times, but he'd just stated that everything was fine and changed the subject.

She had to wonder if he was just uncomfortable around _her, but none of his actions since they'd awakened that morning had given credence to that theory.  _

Sydney smiled as she remembered how it had felt waking up in his arms earlier that morning.  More importantly, she remembered how unwilling he was to let her get out of bed.

_Sydney__ slowly opened her eyes.  The room was still dark, but she could tell it was no longer night.  She started to get out of bed only to find herself being pulled back._

_"Not yet."_

_She glanced over her shoulder.  His eyes were still closed, but a sweet little smile graced his features.  Looking over his shoulder, she spied the clock._

_"We need to get up."_

"Meghan?" he called.

"Hmm?" she sighed.  "Sorry, what?" she asked, shaken from her reverie.

Vaughn looked at her, wondering if her injury the night before might not have been worse than they first thought.  "You okay?"

She nodded.  "I'm fine.  What were you saying?"

Vaughn wasn't quite convinced.  "Do you want the museum or the gardens?"

"You know, I think I'll take the museum.  Might as well look at some of my favorite pieces of art while watching for," she paused briefly, leaning closer as she whispered, "him."

Vaughn let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  "Okay.  But whatever you do, you don't go off alone.  Stay with a group."

She smiled.  She really must have scared him last night.  "I promise," she said.  "Be careful," she added.  She squeezed his hand once and smiled at him before she turned to enter the museum.  

"You too," he answered quietly as he headed for the gardens.

************

Vaughn checked his watch once again as he continued to wander around the gardens.  It was now 2:15 and there had been no sign of Khasinau, or even Sark for that matter.  

_I knew this was too easy, he thought as he passed "The Thinker" for the third time.  He walked over to the cafeteria and ordered a bottle of water, although the Heineken had been __very tempting.  _

He drank it quickly and resumed his "tour".  While he wandered around, he noticed how little things had changed since he'd been there last.  _Had it really been twenty-five years? he wondered as he strolled down one of the paths again.    _

Turning the corner, he saw a man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, leading a young boy up towards the museum.  When he got close enough to hear them, he wanted to laugh at the boy's objections to being taken to a museum.  

He watched as they walked on, trying not to laugh as the boy's obvious displeasure with the situation became even clearer.  _At least I wasn't like that, he remembered as he followed yet another path.   _

_"Papa, what are we doing?" the child had asked as they walked through the garden on their way to the building._

_"You know, Michael."  At his blank expression, William had crouched beside his eight year old son.  "We're looking for a present for your mother."_

_The boy's face lit up.  "Oh, for her birthday.  But why here?" he asked earnestly._

_William stood up, taking his son's hand and entering the museum.  "Because we are looking for something special."_

_"Why?"_

_William ran a hand through the child's hair.  Always a question.  Never satisfied with a simple yes, no, or because.  "It will be her thirtieth birthday.  We want it to be a special one, don't we?"  He watched as his son agreed.  "Ok, so we need a special, no, an extraordinary present to celebrate this special birthday."_

_"Oh," Michael replied as he followed his father through the first floor of the museum.  When they went into the final room on that floor, eight year old Michael stood completely still._

_He let go of his father's hand and moved slowly around the giant sculpture.  He made a complete circle and stopped in front, his head cocked to one side, staring at it.  Studying it._

_"Michael?" William asked._

_"Papa, I'd like to buy this for mom."_

_William burst out laughing.  He ignored the stares of the others in the room, but when he looked down at his son, he immediately stopped laughing.  "Michael, we can't buy that.  We can only look at it."_

_"But why not?"__  The little boy didn't understand why he couldn't give this to his mother._

_"This sculpture, it's to be admired only.  If you really want to get this for her, why don't we go see if they have a copy in the shop.  Okay?"_

_"Will it be as big as this one?"_

_"No," he laughed.  "Why?" he asked, wondering why Michael had asked._

_"Because that won't fit in the living room," the boy replied seriously as they walked to the boutique._

_Five minutes later a dejected Michael was told that the last copy of "The Kiss" had been sold the previous day.  William leaned down.  "Do you see anything else?"_

_"No," the boy answered, pouting._

_"Michael, they don't have any more copies right now.  Why don't we find something else."_

_Michael stuck out his lower lip sullenly.  "I don't want anything else."_

_William hated when his son's stubborn streak reared its ugly head.  He sighed.  "Why do you want this one so badly?"_

_The little boy looked up into his father's eyes.  "It's just like you and mom."_

_Michael had watched his father go back to the counter and heard him ask the clerk when they would have more.  Then he saw his father pull out some money.  A minute later his father came back,   handing him the receipt.  "I'll bring it home with me two days before your mom's birthday.  Okay?"_

_Michael threw his hands around his father's neck.  "Oh thank you, papa!" he said excitedly._

Vaughn swallowed hard at the memory.  That had been such a fun day.  It had also been the last time he'd spent the day with his father where it was just the two of them.  And his mother never got her present...

"Excuse me, Sir?" someone said from behind him.

Vaughn looked up, startled.  "Yes?"

The waiter held out an envelope.  "The gentleman at the bar thought you dropped this."

Vaughn took it from the waiter's hand and looked for the man in question.  Seeing no one, he turned it over and found his name printed on the front.  _Well, not technically his, he corrected as he thanked the waiter.  Once he was gone, Vaughn opened it, pulling several pictures out._

The first picture he saw had him looking around again for anything unusual.  It was one of Will being placed in a car, Sark standing beside him, a sign in the background for Gatwick Airport.

Vaughn shuffled through the next few pictures until he came across one of him kissing Sydney outside the club the night before.  As he flipped to the next photo, a close-up, something dropped from the pile onto the ground.

He leaned over and picked up the picture, a Polaroid.  He turned it over and an image of Sydney standing in front of "The Kiss" stared back at him.  He stuffed them all back inside the envelope as he took off running.

************

Sydney was coming back downstairs when she saw Vaughn come bounding up the stairs from the garden.  Hurrying down the remainder of the steps, she walked over to him quickly.  "What's wrong?"

Vaughn gasped, trying to catch his breath.  "We have to go," he answered after a minute.

"I don't understand."

"It's a set-up."  He looked around, pulling Sydney to the side.  "Our _friend," he began, glancing at her.  Her confusion made him clarify his statement.  "You know, the one we were supposed to meet here at 2?"  _

Sydney nodded, finally understanding what he was talking about.  

"He never had a meeting here.  They just wanted us here."  He showed her the envelope and pulled out the Polaroid.  

Sydney paled when she looked at the picture.

"Do you remember anyone taking pictures?  Maybe what they looked like?" he asked as he led her to the main entrance of the museum, trying hard not to look at the statue behind him.  

Sydney thought hard, unable to pick anyone unusual out of the groups that she'd passed in her tour of the museum.  There had been a group of school children who'd just groaned when they saw the statue.  Then there had been an elderly couple and then a couple of college students.  "No."

"You were facing the camera.  You don't remember anyone?"

"Wait, there _was someone.  He took a picture.  Then he apologized because the flash had startled me.  He sounded Italian."_

Vaughn hailed a cab.  "Ok, we're going back to the hotel.  When we get there, I think we need to call L.A. and let them know about this."

"What else is in there?" Sydney asked, pointing to the envelope.

"More pictures."

"Of?"

"When we get back to the hotel," was all he would say as a cab pulled up.

************

Sydney watched at Vaughn swept the room again.  "You already did that," she complained.

Pulling the phone from its hiding place, he quickly dialed Devlin.  When Devlin answered, he explained the situation.

"Yes, it was addressed to me.  Well not to _me, but to Sebastien Harcourt."  He listened for a moment before adding, "I realize that, but the pictures clearly show that they are in London.  Or at least they were."_

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.  "Do you want me to call Jack and Weiss?"  Another pause.  "Okay, I'll make the arrangements.  As soon as they've been finalized, then I'll call Madrid."

Again he paused.  "Yes, Sir.  We'll be there tonight," he replied before disconnecting the call.  

"Would you please tell me what's going on?  What's this about London?"

Vaughn pulled out the pictures, all of them.  He handed her the two of Will first.

She walked over to the couch, dazed.  Once seated, she looked at the photos more carefully.  It was definitely Will.  And he looked horrible.  "What have they done to you?" she asked quietly, a tear sliding down her face as her finger traced the outline of Will's face.

Vaughn walked over and sat down next to her.  "Sydney, there's more."

She looked up at him as he handed her the other pictures.  Fearing what they would reveal, she held them in her hands for several minutes before she finally gathered the strength, the courage, to look at them.  When she did, her fear was immediately replaced by shock.  "That's why there were no guards inside," she muttered aloud.

"They wanted us to find that note," he added as he reached for the phone book.

"What are you doing?"

"We need to get to London."

"But Vaughn, you said it yourself.  We're being set up."

"I know, but someone wants us to go to London.  And right now, I don't think we have much of a choice."


	16. Part 15

Weiss flipped the channel on the television yet again.  He hated waiting.  Not liking what he saw, he changed it again, much to Jack's dismay.

"Would you just land on something and keep it there?"

Weiss set the remote on the table.  "Sorry."

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  He'd never been good at waiting and, apparently, he still wasn't.  He was about to say something when the ringing of the phone had them both jumping to answer it.

Weiss got there first.  "Yes?"  A few seconds later, he handed the phone to Jack.  "Devlin would like to speak with you."

Jack took the phone, a sense of dread settling over him.  "Yes, Ben."

Two minutes later Jack disconnected the call.  He returned the phone to Weiss.  "Pack your bags."

"Huh?"

"We need to go to London."

"Why?"

"Sydney and Vaughn uncovered evidence that Mr. Tippin has been in London the entire time."

"How do we know the intel's reliable?"

"We don't, but we know he isn't in Madrid.  And apparently, he isn't in Paris either."

Weiss walked over to the closet, withdrawing his suitcase.  "When do we leave?"

************

"Mr. Tippin, how are you feeling?" the aging doctor asked as he walked in the room.

"Fuzzy," Will answered as he rubbed his temple.  "But the allergies aren't bothering me anymore.  Thanks."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," the doctor teased, a slow smile on his face.

"Yeah, I'm really glad you were on that flight.  I mean, I know the CIA's got a lot on their minds, but why on earth did they need to send all those cats overseas anyway?"

"CIA?"  The doctor blinked.  "You're right, we here at the CIA have a lot to oversee right now.  But about the cats . . . well, those cats were being used for research," he finished.  "Medical research."

"Oh.  Well, I guess that's important," Will conceded, even as he inwardly shivered.  _Medical research—isn't that inhumane or something?  But at least he was feeling better.  The pain was almost gone, and he felt the most normal that he had since leaving the safe house in L.A._

"Speaking of medicine," the doctor drawled, "I brought one last dose up here for you to take—pill form this time—"

"Good," Will said, wincing at the thought of another needle puncturing his skin.

"—and a snack.  You need to take this with food so it doesn't upset your stomach," the doctor finished.

"Thanks," Will said as he gratefully accepted the sandwich and Coke.  He placed the pill in his mouth and took a gulp of Coke, swallowing quickly.

"Yuck!" he said as he stuffed a large bit of his sandwich in his mouth.

"What?"

"That—that tasted terrible!"

"Oh, that's right, you've never been to London before, have you?  The Coke products have vegetable juice in them, producing a slightly different taste than what you're used to in the U.S."

"_Slightly different my ass," Will muttered.  "Oh, well.  Thanks for the sandwich."_

"You're welcome."  He walked to the door and stopped.

"I almost forgot.  We still need to get your statement.  We'll be leaving in about twenty minutes to go to our offices.  Is that enough time for you?"

"Sure," Will answered.  "I'd like to get this show on the road myself."

The doctor smiled.  "So would we."  He quietly closed the door behind him.

Sark looked up from his newspaper.  "Well?"

"Tippin will be ready to go in twenty," he answered in his normal voice.

"Good.  And the toxin?"

"He was so busy focusing on the different-tasting Coke that he didn't even notice the sandwich had a slightly metallic taste to it."  The doctor grinned.  "It's almost too easy."

************

_I am really beginning to hate planes...  Sticking his bag in one of the overhead compartments, Weiss settled back into the chair he'd occupied on the flight over.  _

Fifteen minutes later, he looked out the window as the plane lifted off the ground.  Within minutes, they were flying over the city heading north.

He looked over at Jack, who was busy looking at the pictures that had arrived just as they'd checked out of the hotel.  "Anything interesting?"

Jack looked at the last picture before returning them to the envelope.  "Just two men who somewhat resemble Sark and Will Tippin."

Weiss nodded.  _So it had been a wild goose chase after all.  "Just exactly how long is this flight?" Weiss asked as he shifted in his seat._

"About two and a half hours."

"Great..."  He started looking for the pillow he'd stuffed under the seat when they'd arrived.  He felt the edge of it and started to yank it forward, tugging on it.

Jack watched, amused.  "What are you doing?"

"It's stuck," Weiss answered as he slid from the seat and looked underneath the see what the pillow was caught on.  One good tug, and Weiss found himself looking up at the ceiling.

Jack chuckled silently, picking up the paper before Weiss saw it.  When he didn't hear Weiss move, he put the paper back down.  "Are you alright?" he asked, going over to help Weiss to his feet.

Eric didn't respond.  He didn't even hear Jack's question.  His attention was completely focused on the box that had fallen from underneath his seat when he'd finally freed the pillow.

Tentatively reaching out, he pulled it closer, noticing that his name, _not his alias, was printed neatly on the plain brown paper._

Jack reached out and picked up the box.  "What's this?"

"I don't know," Weiss answered as he stood up.  Taking the box from Jack, he sat back down, turning it over carefully.  Lifting it back up, he was confused by the weight, or lack thereof.

He took a deep breath and then began to unwrap the box.

"Do you think that's wise?"

Weiss looked up.  "There's only one way we'll find out what's inside."

_True...  "Before you finish unwrapping that, do you mind if I take a look?"_

Weiss handed him the box.  "Be my guest."

Jack handled it cautiously, feeling for any tell-tale wires, or any unusual lumps.  Finding nothing, he held it to his ear.  After a moment, her returned it to Weiss.  "I think it's safe to open."

"Gee, thanks."  He finished removing the paper, warily lifting the flap.  His hands shook as he pulled the crushed pink and white striped bag from within.  

"What is that?"

Weiss didn't answer as he gingerly smoothed out the bag.  Without looking, he had a feeling he knew what he'd find inside.  He reached into the bag, his fingers finding satin and lace.  Weiss dropped the bag and ran for the bathroom, leaving a confused Jack Bristow in his wake.

************

"Change of plans," British Dude crisply told Will as they walked towards the car.  "We must travel to a safe house outside of London.  For your safety—" he coughed "—you must stay hidden in the back seat."

"Do I have to?" Will asked before remembering who he was talking to.

"The back seat under a blanket or the trunk.  It's your choice, Mr. Tippin."

Will sighed.  "The back seat," he conceded reluctantly as he climbed in the back.

"Very good.  Our driver will take you to the safe house.  The doctor and I will be following in this car," he pointed to a car parked several feet away.  "We'll see you there."

The figure under the blanket nodded.

A slight smile teased Sark's lips as the car drove away.  "I told the driver to take the long route.  We should have at least thirty minutes with Khasinau before they arrive.  The medicine should take affect when?"

"Any minute now," the doctor answered.  He began to walk.  "Come on—let's get going."

************

Sydney settled into the seat next to Vaughn.  All the times she traveled between Paris and London recently, this was the first time she'd taken the train under the Channel.  "How long will this take?" 

"About three hours."

"So we'll be there about 10:30 p.m., right?"

"Yes."

"And when we get there?"

Vaughn turned so he could look at her.  "When we get there, we check into the hotel."

"Really?" she stated sarcastically.  "I thought we'd just go clubbing."

Vaughn rolled his eyes.  "You know what I mean."

"I know.  Sorry."  Sydney sighed tiredly, rubbing the bump on her forehead.

He looked over at her.  When he saw her massaging her head, he turned to her.  "You okay?"

Sydney stopped, smiling back at him.  "I'm fine.  It's just a little sore.  That's all."

"Okay," he replied, unconvinced.  "Well anyway, when we get there, we'll check into the hotel and let your father and Eric know we've arrived."

"They'll already be there?"

Vaughn glanced at his watch.  If what he'd heard from Devlin had been true, Weiss and Jack should be landing any minute.  "They should be getting ready to land as we speak."

"Did Devlin say if they'd found anything in Madrid?"

"All Devlin would tell me is that they received a package which proved that Sark was the one who kidnapped Will.  Other than that, he didn't say anything."

"Oh.  What do you want to do about the pictures?"

Vaughn pulled the envelope from his bag.  He thumbed through them until he came to the ones he knew Sydney was asking about.  He separated those two from the others.  Keeping them in his hand, he passed the envelope to her.  "We'll show them these," he stated, indicating the ones she now held.  "These two I think we'll just keep to ourselves."

Sydney smiled.  "That's probably for the best," she answered, remembering her father's outburst in L.A.

Vaughn placed them carefully back in his bag, recalling the warning he'd received in Newark.  No, he definitely didn't want Jack to see those...

************

Sark picked up his cell phone.  "Yes."  He listened for a moment, then frowned.  "Again?  Yes, we must make sure never to use these drugs again.  Horrible side effects.  Very well then.  Bring him in."

"Is there a problem?" Khasinau asked his protégé.

"Tippin has an interesting reaction to the drug—namely, he becomes a singing maniac."

"Not again," the doctor said.  "I researched this drug three times.  This shouldn't be happening."

"Mr. Tippin is, as you should know by now, a special case," a new voice pointed out.

The three men turned.  "Irina, so nice for you to finally join us," Khasinau said sarcastically.

"I've been busy," she said as she slipped into her seat.  "Where are we?"

"Waiting for Tippin to arrive so the 'interview' can begin," Sark answered.  He leaned his head towards the door and grimaced.  "Here they come now."

The driver walked in the room followed by a dancing Will.

"It gets worse by the hour," Sark muttered.  He looked at the doctor.  "Go get the others," he ordered.

"Mr. Tippin, we meet again," Sark said loudly.  "I would like you to meet my employer and one of my associates—"

"Sydney!" Will exclaimed, rushing over to Irina.  "Are you okay?" he asked, pulling her into a fierce hug.

"Fine, fine," she said, winking at the others.  "Can you sit down for us?"

"Oh, sure," he replied as he weaved his way to the available seat.

The doctor returned with two men.  "These two officers will be asking you some questions, Will.  Just tell the truth and you'll be fine."

_The truth . . .  Will turned to his friend.  She nodded reassuringly.  __British Dude, I don't trust.  This "employer" guy, I don't trust._

_But for __Sydney__, I'll tell them everything I know._

Irina cleared her throat.  "While you're answering their questions, I'm going to be in the next room meeting with my boss," she said in a surprisingly sweet voice.  "Is that okay with you?"

Will nodded.

"Okay, I'll be back in a little bit," she said cheerfully as she walked out of the room.  Khasinau followed behind her.

"Please state your name for the record," a man told Will.

The doctor whispered to Sark, "He's under the meds for another hour.  Is that long enough?"

Sark nodded.  "But if he starts singing again, we may kill him sooner."


	17. Part 16

"Syd, I'm home!" Francie called as she walked through the front door.  She glanced around the apartment, looking for signs of her roommate.

"I guess she's still with her dad," she said aloud as she set her keys on the kitchen table.  Shrugging her shoulders, she carried her suitcase into her bedroom, emptying out its contents.  She had just thrown a load of clothes in the washing machine when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Sydney there?" a woman asked on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry, she's not here right now.  Can I take a message?"  Francie tried to hold back the sigh that was threatening to escape from her lips.  _If I have to take one more __message for Syd . . .___

"Oh, well, maybe you can help me.  My name is Abby, and I work for the _Register—"_

"Will's paper," Francie interrupted.  "Wait a minute—I talked to you Saturday night.  Francie Calfo, remember?"

"Francie?  Oh, hi.  Well, I wrote down your message, but he never got it.  He hasn't been to work at all this week.  Have you talked to him since then?  Or do you know if Sydney's talked to him lately?"

"I haven't heard from him.  I think Sydney talked to him Saturday night," Francie said slowly, trying to remember.  "But then she went out of town on Sunday, so I doubt she's heard from him since."

"And he hasn't called and left a message?" Abby pressed.

"No.  I just checked the machine, and there was nothing from him."  Francie chewed her lower lip.  _Where are you, Will?_

Abby sighed.  "Is there someplace we can meet?  Someplace private?"

"Why?"

"I can't tell you over the phone," she said in a low voice.  "It must be in person."

Francie's heart raced.  "You could come over here," she said finally.  "There's no one here but me."

"Good."  Abby sounded relieved.  "There's something I need to show you."

************

"I'm sorry, sir, but that lift is not operating.  The other one should be here momentarily," a hotel clerk told Jack.

He stepped away from the elevator and nodded.  Weiss looked around the lobby and muttered, "Nice place."

Jack nodded.  

Three minutes later, the empty elevator finally returned to the ground floor.  The two men stepped inside, and Jack pushed the "6" button.  

"What room are you in?" Weiss asked as they exited the elevator.  

"633," Jack answered as he stopped in front of his room.  "I'll call your room when our . . . Parisian partners have arrived."

"Wha—oh, right.  Our Parisian partners," Weiss repeated.  He nodded.  "See you in a bit."  

Jack pulled out the key card and inserted it in the door.  He was greeted by a small living room, complete with a bright yellow couch and red throw pillows on it.

He placed his suitcase next to the couch and turned to the left, where he noticed the spacious bedroom and a door that presumably led to the bathroom.  He walked over to the right side of the bed and inspected the furniture.  _Just as I remembered. He opened up the refrigerator that stood at least three feet tall.  He glanced at its contents for a moment before resolutely shutting the door.  __It would be best not to repeat __Madrid__. _

Instead, he turned to the dark green drapes that covered one wall and opened them.  By being on the sixth floor—_really, the seventh, he mentally noted—he was higher than most of the surrounding buildings and could see their rooftops.  _

_Sydney__ would like this room.  It's just like Mary Poppins, he thought, pleased that he could remember one of her favorite childhood movies.  The idea that you could step into a completely different world had appealed to his young daughter . . .  . . . just as it had appealed to his wife.  _

_"Look at this view!" Laura called out, beckoning for Jack to join her at the window.  __He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, an amused smile on his face._

"So what do you think of London?"  

_"I love it!" she said eagerly, turning around and impulsively kissing him.  _

_Jack laughed.  "Just wait until you actually get to see the city, not just the bedroom," he teased.  _

_"Well, I wouldn't mind staying in either," she said in a sultry voice.  _

_Jack blinked.  "If you keep this up, I'll never get my work done," he growled.  "And if I don't take care of this, I'll never be allowed to bring you with me anywhere again."  He leaned down to indulge himself in another kiss.  _

_"Fine then," she pouted.  "You go and do whatever it is you have to do, and I'll just stand here and enjoy the Mary Poppins __view."  She waved at the window.  "Isn't this great?  Just like the movie.   Chim, chimery, chim, chimery . . ." she began singing.  _

_Jack rolled his eyes.  He loved his wife, but her singing skills were severely lacking.  "That's a children's movie," he chided.  ___

_"So?  Does that makes it a bad movie?" she questioned, a glint in her eye.  _

_"Well, no, not a bad__ movie, just not a movie that I would enjoy watching," he said.  _

_Laura bit her lip, fighting a grin.  "So you're saying that you will never take our son or daughter to the movies?"  _

_"Laura, that's not what I said at all.  I—I—what did you say?"  ___

_"What do you think I said?" she asked playfully.  _

_"It sounded like—like—are you—do you mean to say that—?"  Jack stared at her, flabbergasted.  _

_Laura threw herself on the bed and began to laugh.  "Jack, you—" laugh "are so—" laugh "cute when you're—" snort "confused!!!" she finished in a high pitch, succumbing to the laughter that had built up inside her.  _

_He walked over to the bed and lay down next to her, anxiously waiting for her laughter to subside.  It was several minutes before she calmed down slightly, her pale cheeks still flushed.  __"Laura, honey—what are you trying to tell me?" he asked as he took her small hand in his.  _

_"Jack," she said softly, a huge grin appearing on her face, "are you ready to be a daddy?"  _

_"You're pregnant." Jack leaned back on the pillow, stunned.  "When—how—?"  _

_"Jack, surely you know how__," she teased.  "You are__ the father, after all."  _

_"The father," he said slowly.  "We're going to be parents."  He pulled Laura into his arms and held her tightly.  _

_"I know!  Isn't this wonderful?" Laura enthused as she looked up at him.  "Jack, what's wrong?"  _

_"Nothing," he said determinedly.  _

_"Come on, Jack, you're using your 'CIA' voice again.  What's wrong?  Are you upset that I'm pregnant?" Laura asked as tears filled her eyes.  _

_"No, honey, it's not that.  It's just—what if something happens to me?  You and our baby would be alone in the world."  Jack looked troubled as he admitted one of his deepest fears.  _

_"Jack, you'll live to be old and gray," she assured him.  "I just know it.  We'll look back on this at our fiftieth wedding anniversary and laugh at how worried we were to be parents for the first time."  _

_"How can you be sure?"  _

_"I can just feel it," she said softly, placing a hand over his heart.  "Stop overanalyzing everything Jack.  Just follow your heart.  After all," she continued with an impish grin, "following your heart led you to me, didn't it?"  _

_The corners of Jack's mouth crept up into a smile.  "You—and our baby."  _

************

Francie opened the door.  "You must be Abby," she said as she ushered the woman into her home.

"And you're Francie.  I recognize you from a picture on Will's desk," Abby said, clutching a manila envelope with both hands.

"Please, have a seat."  Francie gestured to the couch.

"Actually, do you mind if we go to the kitchen table?  There are several different papers I have to show you."

Francie nodded, confused.  _Papers?__  What does this have to do with Will?_

The two women sat down.  Abby hesitantly began.

"Last week, Will came to me and gave me this envelope.  He told me that he was going to approach his kidnapper."

"Kidnapper?"

Abby nodded.  "Someone kidnapped Will several weeks ago to scare him off a story he was working on.  Apparently he learned who it was."  She shrugged.  "He never told me who he suspected, just that he was going to approach him.  Will told me that inside this envelope was a story he had written, but I wasn't supposed to read it."

"But why would he do that?" Francie interrupted.

Abby stared at her.  "He only wanted it published if he was murdered."

Francie gasped.  "Murdered?  Will?  But—how—he doesn't write stories that could get him murdered!"

"That's what I thought," Abby admitted.  "But since he's been gone for several days, I was worried.  So this afternoon on my lunch break I went home and brought the envelope with me.  What I read . . ." she trailed off.  "I'm scared."

"What does it say?"

Abby pushed the envelope across the table.  "See for yourself."

Cautiously, Francie picked up the envelope and opened it.  She removed several sheets of paper and four white letter-sized envelopes.  The paper on top had Will's typically messy handwriting.

_Abby,_

_I TOLD you not to read this just for kicks.  This information is highly sensitive, on a need-to-know basis.  If something happens to me, publish this.  It's the only way my killers will be caught._

_Thanks for doing this for me.  I know I'm putting you in a horrible position, and I'm sorry for that.  Whatever you do, I have two requests: 1) give the envelopes with my good-bye letters to my parents, my sister Amy, Sydney, and Francie; 2) don't pursue the story.  Someone advised me to get off the story, and I didn't listen.  I think you can understand why it's important that you walk away from this, because if you don't, they will find you too._

Will 

"Good-bye letters?" Francie said softly.  "It's like he went into this expecting to die."

Abby nodded, her brow crinkled.  She turned the page.  "Read the article."

Francie lifted the sheet and began to read.

_Every journalist wants to be remembered for that one great story of theirs._

_If you're reading this, then my great story was also my last._

_Last year one of my good friends, Daniel Hecht, was murdered in his apartment.  There were no suspects in his murder, no clues at all.  The police didn't want to investigate, so I made it my personal mission to find his killer._

_What I found took me into a world I thought only existed in comic books and movies—somehow I found myself in the world of __U.S.__ intelligence agencies, including a rogue agency called SD-6._

"Danny wasn't in SD-whatever," Francie said.  "He was in med school."

"I guess he found out something he shouldn't have," Abby said with a shake of her head.

"And now this agency has Will."

Abby looked at Francie, her expression grim.  "I think so."

Francie stood, walking quickly to the phone.

"What do you think you're doing? Abby asked, sitting forward in her chair as she watched Francie grab the phone.

"I have to call Sydney."

Abby jumped up.  "You can't do that," she said nervously as she placed her hand over Francie's, forcing her to put the phone down.

Francie just stared at her.  "Listen, Sydney needs to know about this.  Will is her friend too.  And Danny was her fiancé.  She _needs to know."_

Abby let go of Francie's hand, returning to her chair.  "I just don't think it's right that you bring someone else in on this," she explained as Francie dialed Sydney's cell.  "It's not what Will wanted.  As it is, he is going to kill me for showing this to you instead of Litvack."  She dropped back into the chair.  "I'll just be happy if he can."

"Damn it!" Francie exclaimed as she slammed the phone down.

"What?"

"Nothing."  Walking into the kitchen, she started rummaging through the drawers.

Abby got back up and walked to the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.  "What are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for her dad's number.  She went on a trip with him and since her dad is one of the higher ups at her bank, I'm sure he'll check his messages.  I'm just going to call and leave a message there, asking him to have Syd call home."

"Do you really think that's wise?"

Francie looked at Abby before returning to her search.  "Like I said, Syd needs to know about this.  Besides, maybe she will have heard from him."  She paused, studying the number she'd just found.  "Finally," she announced.

Retrieving the phone, she dialed the unfamiliar number.  After a moment, she began to speak.  "Um, hi, Mr. Bristow.  This is Francie.  Francie Calfo.  I'm Syd's roommate.  She called and left a message that she was going on a trip with you and I really need to talk to her.  I called her cell phone and I'm not even getting her voicemail.  It's about Will and it's really important.  Actually, it's an emergency.  So, anyway, if you could have Sydney call me, I'd really appreciate it.  Thanks.  Bye."

As she replaced the receiver, she realized that even when she was just leaving a message on his machine, Sydney's father scared the hell out of her.

"So what do we do now?" Abby wondered aloud.

Francie walked back to the living room.  Placing the papers back in the envelope, she sat back down.  Looking back at Abby, she finally answered.  "I guess we wait."

**********  **

"Relax, Sark.  He hasn't broken into song yet," the doctor murmured from his seat.

"It's coming—I can feel it," Sark said through gritted teeth.  His diatribe was interrupted by a shouting match in the neighboring room.

"Khasinau and Irina, at it again," the doctor said in a low voice.  He shook his head.  "How have they managed to work together for so many years when they scream at each other like that?"

"It works for them," Sark answered.  "He shouts, she screams, they throw things—everyone's satisfied in the end.  Why change a pattern that's worked for at least thirty-five years?"  He turned his attention back to the interrogation.

"And how did your kidnapping make you feel?" the man asked Will.

The doctor hid a laugh behind a cough.  _God, I love irony._

"Feel?"  Will asked blearily.

"Uh-oh," Sark muttered.

"Feel?"  Will paused, thinking.  "I know!"  He bounced out of his seat and cleared his throat dramatically.

"My feelings would be best expressed by a song from the 1961 movie _West Side Story.  In this scene, Maria is thinking about her newfound love Tony."  Will took a deep breath and began to sing and dance._

_"I feel pretty, oh so pretty . . ."_

"Make it stop," one of the men muttered.

_"I feel pretty and witty and gay . . ."_

The doctor began to choke on his laughter.

_"And I pity, any girl who isn't me today . . ."_

"That's it.  Where's the final dose?" Sark asked the doctor.

He pointed.  "Third room on the left."

Sark nodded and quickly exited the room.  He returned a minute later.  "Help me find it—now."  The doctor stood up and joined him in the search.

_"Such a pretty me!"_

The two men who were interrogating Will quietly slipped out of the room.

In the next room, the screaming escalated.  Glass crashed on the floor.  Bodies were flung sharply against the walls—but no one was listening.

_"I feel dizzy, I feel sunny, I feel fizzy and funny and fine!  And so pretty, Miss __America__ can just resign!" Will finished triumphantly, his arms spread wide.  He looked around the silent room.  "Where did everyone go?"_

In the next room, a single gunshot disturbed the tranquil scene.

************

Irina rushed to Khasinau and felt for a pulse.  Nothing.  "Farewell, you son-of-a-bitch," she said as she kicked him one final time.

She ran to the next room and grabbed Will.  _This is going to be easier than I thought.  "Will, we have to go," she said urgently.  She tugged on his arm.  "Will!"_

"Sydney—what—where—?"

"Come on," she said as she led him down the hallway.  _We have maybe one more minute before they realize he's dead._

The pair ran outside.  "This way!" she shouted as Will veered off course.

"There they are!" Sark yelled from behind them.  Will stopped and turned around.  _Wow, British Dude and the old doctor sure can run fast._

Irina turned around and fired.  She missed.  The returning shot was more on-target.

"Sydney!  You're hurt!" Will said as he tried to stay standing.  All of a sudden the world was moving rapidly around him.

"It's nothing," she dismissed as she gingerly touched her left arm.  "Get in that car over there—now!"  She tossed him the keys.

Will obliged, unlocking the doors and getting inside.  "Sydney!  Do you want me to—"

"Start the car," she yelled as she fired another shot.  This one hit its target as Sark's leg collapsed.  He sank to the ground.

Irina ran and jumped in the driver's seat.  "You _will regret this, you stupid bastards," she said as she fired her parting shot._

The car sped down the road leading towards London.

"Sydney, are you sure you're okay?" Will asked, concerned even in his stupor.

"I'll survive," she said.  "Come on, Will—we've got a plane to catch."


	18. Part 17

_Ring, ring. Jack walked to the desk and picked up the phone.  "Hello?"  _

"Hi, can you tell me what time the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace is?" a familiar voice asked.  

"I'm sorry, ma'am, this isn't the concierge's number.  But I believe it's around 6:30, maybe 6:33 or so."  

"Thank you for telling me," the voice said.  "I thought it was 4:15 or something.  My mistake.  Thanks again!"

The call was disconnected.  Five minutes later Jack got off the elevator on the fourth floor and strode down the hallway.  He rapped his knuckles on the door.  He could hear footsteps approach from the inside, then a pause as someone peered through the peephole.

The door hesitantly opened and Jack hurried inside.  "It's about time," he muttered as he glanced around the room.  The features were the same, only the decor differed.

"Have you—?" he motioned around the room as he sat at the small table.  

Sydney nodded.  "All clear.  Where's Weiss?"  She sat down on the edge of the bed.  

"He's coming down in a few minutes.  What about Vaughn?" Jack wanted to know.  

"He'll be back soon.  He just ran down to the bar," she replied as she looked down at her folded hands.  "I guess we should wait until they get here, right?"  

"That would be logical," he agreed, thinking that he would have to have a talk with Vaughn about the appropriate time to get a drink.  The two sat in silence for several minutes.  Jack looked around again, noticing that his daughter's suitcase was not the only one in the room.  He was about to ask her which room Vaughn was in when she spoke.

"How's Weiss holding up?" Sydney finally asked.  

Jack paused, deliberately choosing his words.  "He reminds me of you right after Danny was killed," he said honestly.  "Dying on the inside, but working his damndest to make sure that the people who did this pay."  

She stared at him as a lump filled her throat.  "Oh," was all she trusted herself to say.  

Father and daughter waited, lost in their own thoughts, for another ten minutes before there was a knock on the door.  After looking through the peephole, Sydney swung the door open and Weiss entered the room, bolting the door behind him.  

"Hey, Sydney," he said quietly.  

"Hey," she answered, reaching up to give him a hug.  The two stayed in each other's embrace for a few minutes, much to Jack's dismay.  _It's not Vaughn she's hugging, it's not Vaughn she's hugging, it's not . . . .  __Knock, knock. _

"I'll get that," Jack said as the two agents disengaged themselves.  He drew his gun before looking to see who was behind the door.  "Hello," he said as he ushered Vaughn into the room.  

Vaughn stared at the revolver and gulped.  "Nice to see you too, Jack." he said, handing Sydney the ice bucket and a couple of plastic baggies.

"They didn't have a regular ice bag?"

"No.  The Concierge said that we could get one in the shop tomorrow if necessary.  For tonight, this will have to do."  

Jack looked between them.  "Why would Sydney need ice?  Did something happen?"

Sydney and Vaughn looked at each other.  _Here goes nothing, she thought, hoping the explanation they'd come up with on the train would be suitable.  "Last night when we were checking out Khasinau's office, I tripped and hit my head.  It's no big deal, but it's a little sore, so I asked Vaughn to get me some ice and an ice bag."_

"You're sure you're okay?" Jack asked worriedly as he examined the bump on his daughter's forehead.  "How could you let this happen?" he demanded, glaring at Vaughn.  

Sydney moved between the two men.  "It's not Vaughn's fault.  Besides, I'm fine, Dad.  Really, Vaughn had me checked out and everything.  Wouldn't leave me alone until a doctor had seen me."

"You're sure?" he asked again.

She smiled, surprised by the concern in his voice.  "Yes."

"Okay then, shall we begin?" he asked the group.  Weiss and Vaughn sat on the end of the bed, while Sydney leaned against the table.  

"Sark wasn't in Madrid," Weiss spoke up.  

"We know," Sydney replied.  

"But how do you know?" Weiss asked.  "I mean, we didn't find out until earlier today."

"Neither did we," Vaughn said, getting up to retrieve the photos they received at the museum.  "But as you can see for yourself, these pictures were taken here, in London, early Monday morning."

"You mean he wasn't in Paris?" Weiss wanted to know.  

Sydney shook her head.  "Okay, you mean to tell me that Sark was never in Paris _or Madrid?"  _

Jack sighed.  "To Sark, this is a game.  One long, drawn-out game around the world."  

"Like _Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?" Sydney asked.  _

"What?"  

"Never mind," she muttered.  

"We have to try and anticipate Sark's next move," Jack continued. "Will Tippin's life may hang in the balance."  

"Why would Sark come here?" Sydney asked.  

"Khasinau has a base nearby," Weiss answered.  "This is probably where Will was taken."  

"Jack, you called this a game," Vaughn said.  "What exactly happened in Madrid?"  

"We spent several hours tailing a group of men that included two men resembling Sark and Will," Jack reported.  "We suspect Sark set this up to throw us off track and therefore buying himself more time."  

"And then there was the tape," Weiss muttered.  

"Tape?" Sydney asked.  

Jack sighed.  "The next morning we received a video from Sark."  

"What was on it, sir?"  

Jack glanced at Weiss.  He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a video cassette.  "You can see for yourselves."  

Sydney glanced around the room.  "But the room doesn't have a—"  _Knock__, knock. _

"Who else knows you're here?" Vaughn murmured, moving to Sydney's side as she cautiously walked towards the door.  She grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly for a moment.  

"I know how to take care of myself," she retorted as she warily checked to see who was on the other side of the door.   Her worried expression cleared as she hissed, "It's the man who checked us into the hotel.  All of you," indicating her three guests, "move!"  

Jack, Vaughn, and Weiss quickly crept into the bathroom.  "Why is this situation just really uncomfortable?" Weiss whispered.  

"Think of it as if you were in a locker room."  At the horrified look she saw on the faces of all three men, she sighed.  "Just deal with it," Sydney answered, closing the door as a second series of knocks were heard.  Unlocking the door, she twisted the doorknob.  "Hello!" she said cheerfully to the hotel employee.  

Vaughn leaned against the door, trying to hear what was happening on the other side.  He felt someone tapping his shoulder, but ignored it, listening to the conversation Sydney was having.

_"I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, miss," the man answered.  "This package just arrived for you. It says 'Urgent,' so I thought I would go ahead and deliver it myself."  _

"Mr. Vaughn."

"What?" Vaughn whispered angrily as he turned around.

Jack cocked his head to the side.  "I just wondered if you could explain _why your suitcase is in my daughter's room."_

Vaughn rolled his eyes.  Sydney was on the other side of that door alone and Jack was worried about where his room was?_   "You have got to be kidding me."_

Weiss sat down on the edge of the bathtub, enjoying the show.

"Actually, Mr. Vaughn, I'm not.  I would like an answer."

"For Christ sake, Jack.  I'm staying in room 422.  And before you ask, the reason my suitcase is here is because when I came up, my card key didn't work.  So, Sydney brought my bag in here while I went down to get a new one and to get her some ice from the bar.  Happy?" he asked sarcastically before turning his ear back to the door.

_"Thank you so much," __Sydney__ answered sweetly as she reached for the large box.  "Let me just get my purse—"  _

_"That's not necessary, ma'am," the employee said.  _

_"Have a good evening."  _

Vaughn heard Sydney close the door.  "He's gone," he told the other two men.

"All clear," she said quietly at the bathroom door.  The three men emerged from the bathroom. 

"Did that man say a package?" Jack asked.  

Sydney nodded and pointed to the box.  "It's addressed to Meghan Stratford," she said as her voice trembled.  "Who knows that I'm here?"  

Jack removed his pocketknife and moved towards the box.  "Let's find out."  With one swift motion, the box was open.  There, nestled underneath mounds of packing material, was a smaller box.  Jack lifted the smaller box and held it to his ear.  "I don't think it's a bomb," he said finally.  

"Well, isn't _that a relief," Vaughn muttered to Sydney.  She briefly smiled.  _

"Well?" Weiss said.  "Are we going to open it or not?"  

Jack looked at Sydney.  "You can do the honors," she said.  He lifted the flaps and peered inside.  "Impossible," he said under his breath. "Sydney, are you _sure the room is all clear?"  _

"Positive," she answered.  "Why?"  

He lifted an envelope and a VCR out of the box.  

"How the hell?" Vaughn wanted to know.  

"I think you should read this," Jack said to his daughter.  He passed her the envelope.  "SYDNEY" was written across the center of the envelope in large, red letters.  

She carefully opened the envelope and removed a single sheet of paper.   She read aloud.  

_Sydney__,  _

_I hope you and your "friend" enjoyed your trip in __Paris__.  Kindly give your father and Mr. Weiss my regards.  __Enclosed you will find something that can help you view a souvenir of my most recent trip to __Los Angeles__. I'm sure you will like it.  __I'll be sure to tell your friend Will hello for you.  He's enjoying himself immensely, I can assure you.  __Until we meet again.  _

The note was unsigned.  

"Sark," the four agents said in unison.  ****

**********  **

"So what's on this video anyway?" Sydney asked as Vaughn hooked up the VCR.  

"You can see for yourselves in a few minutes," was her father's cryptic response.  She rolled her eyes.  _The more things change . . .  Vaughn stood up.  _

"Ready to go," he said.  Weiss walked over to the VCR and tried to push the video in.  "Weird," he said as he removed the tape.  

"What?" Vaughn asked.  

"What's wrong?" Sydney asked as she stood and went to where Weiss was standing.  

"Helps if you put the damn thing in the right way," Weiss muttered as he flipped the tape over and inserted it in the VCR.

Jack sat down on the couch, placing the box next to him.  As he did, he heard something rattling around in the bottom.  Pulling the styrofoam out of the box, Jack's heart lurched when he saw what remained.  He picked them up carefully.

"Dad, where did you get those keys?"

Jack looked over at Weiss, who was standing frozen by the VCR, his hand hovering next to the "PLAY" button.  "Keys?" he asked as he slowly moved to look at what Sydney was now holding in her hands.

"Yeah," Sydney answered, holding them up for Weiss to see.  "Looks like an ordinary set of keys to me."  

Weiss held out his hand and Sydney dropped the ring into his outstretched palm.  Closing his hand over them, feeling the keys' jagged edges biting into his skin, he walked over to the window and stared outside, fighting for control.  

"Eric?" Vaughn called to his friend.

"Leave him be," Jack stated as he stood up and walked quickly to the VCR.  "You'll understand in a few minutes," he said tersely as the screen went black.

************

Sydney couldn't move.  She was having a hard enough time trying to remember to breathe.  What she, what they, had just seen had been a nightmare.  _It couldn't be true..._

She looked over at her father, tears swimming in her eyes.  "But... But... That can't be...  It just isn't...  Dad?"

Jack walked over and sat next to his daughter, taking her hand in his own.  "I know, honey."

Sydney felt like she had been punched.  _How could this be true?  It can't be true.  I just know it, she thought.  But then she looked over at Weiss, and then she turned her gaze to Vaughn before finally turning back to her father.  Even knowing all the horrible things her mother had done in the past, she still couldn't fathom how or why.  "How could she?"_

"Sydney, we've known for some time that chances were good that your mother was alive.  We learned that at one time, she worked for Khasinau.  It only makes sense that she would still be working for him."

"But...  But why would she do this?  Why?" she pleaded.

"I don't know," Jack answered as he pulled his daughter to him, tightening his embrace as her tears began to flow.

Vaughn looked at the scene on the couch.  And then he looked at his friend standing at the window, still clutching the keys in his hand.

As he continued to watch Eric, Vaughn noticed that there was something dripping from his hand.  Realizing what it was, he quickly disappeared into the bathroom.  He ran some cold water over a cloth and returned to the living room.

"Here."  He handed Weiss the cold, damp cloth.

"What?"

"Your hand."

Weiss looked down, shocked to find blood.  He took the wash cloth, cleaning his hand.  "Thanks."  He handed it back to Vaughn as he started for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't think we are going to get much accomplished tonight.  I'm going back to my room."  _Right, and on the way to my room, I'm going to stop in the bar, he thought as he reached the door.  _

Vaughn watched as Weiss left the room.  Locking the door behind him, he returned to the sitting area, his eyes coming to rest on Sydney.

He shifted them quickly, not able to see her in so much pain.  But then his eyes caught sight of the snowy TV screen.  And he remembered the way Sydney's mother had just stabbed Zoe with the syringe.

Seeing her do that made him wonder if that was her forte, her modus operandi, her signature.  And then he wondered if that was how she had killed his father.

He walked over to the television and turned it off.  He reached down and hit the "STOP" button on the VCR.  And then he slowly walked over and grabbed his suitcase.

Looking at Jack, he just tilted his head in the direction of the door.  Jack just looked at him as he tightened his arms around his sobbing daughter.  Vaughn was about to turn away when he saw Jack mouthing something to him.

Vaughn nodded and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.  As he walked down to his room, he was still stunned by the fact that Jack Bristow, the same Jack Bristow who had not two days before been warning him to stay away from his daughter, had actually _thanked him._

Entering his room, he didn't turn on the light.  He just dropped his suitcase by the door, tossed the card key on the dresser, and wandered over to the window as he tried not to think about how one woman could wreak so much havoc on so many lives.


	19. Part 18

Sydney pulled back, embarrassed that she'd allowed herself to fall apart like that.  Especially in front of her father.  She used her sleeve to dry her eyes.  "Sorry."

Jack sat back.  He could already feel her pulling away from her, and he hated it.  "Sydney."

She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears once again.  She stood up and walked over to the VCR.  Ejecting the tape, she held it in her hands.  And then she threw it violently across the room as she dropped to the floor, sobs wracking her body once again.

Jack was beside her in an instant.  He cradled her in his arms, rocking her back and forth slowly.  "Sydney, it's okay."

She pulled back, anger quickly replacing sorrow.  "How can you say that?"  She pointed to where the tape had landed, surprised to see it still in one piece.  "_That," she said venomously, pointing again at the tape, "is as far from okay as anyone can get!"****_

Jack stood back up, walked over and retrieved the tape.  "You're right, Sydney.  _This," he held out his hand which held the tape, "is not okay.  You watched your mother commit cold-blooded murder on this tape.  Vaughn watched his father's murderer kill his best friend's girlfriend.  I had to watch you watch your mother commit this heinous act."_

He dropped the tape on the bed and went back to where Sydney was standing.  "What I meant was that I'm here for you."  He saw she was about to disagree with him, so he quickly continued.  "I know I haven't been there in the past.  _God knows I haven't been there, but I am here now.  And whether you allow yourself to believe it or not is your choice, but Sydney, you can trust me."_

Sydney just nodded and looked away.  "I believe you.  _I do.  And I know you love me..."_

"But," Jack supplied.

"But, if anything happens to Will, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you," she concluded, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Jack felt as if he'd just had his heart ripped out of his chest.  He walked over to the bed and picked up the tape.  When he turned back to face his daughter, the mask was back in place.  "I think I should probably leave."

"Dad..."

"No, Sydney.  I understand what you've said."  He walked to the door.  "You were also right about something."

"What's that?" she asked as he opened the door.

"I do love you," Jack answered as he closed the door behind him.

************

Jack walked slowly to the elevator.  Pressing the "UP" button, he waited, listening as the elevator came to life.  As he waited, he thought about everything that had happened, and everything that could still happen.  Most of all he thought of her.

If he had it to do over again, he would still marry her.  The thought surprised him, yet deep down he knew it was true.  Before he knew the truth about her, he had lived the happiest years of his life.  It was the ideal life, he readily admitted to himself—the young couple so in love with each other, even after so many years of marriage.  The adorable daughter with an intuition wise beyond her years, often shocking her parents' friends with her intelligent comments.

In the end, it was a sham—the love he felt for his wife was apparently not reciprocated.  The thing that killed him the most was the thought that Laura did not truly love Sydney.  Someday, he hoped he could work through the pain that his wife never loved him . . . but Sydney?  How could anyone, especially her own mother, not love her?

_At least we didn't have any more . . . oh God.  No.  No, no, no.  Jack's heart lurched from its resting place as a long-forgotten memory came out of hiding._

_"Honey, it's okay.  Why don't you pass out the candy and I'll take __Sydney__ trick-or-treating?" he suggested._

_Laura frowned.  "But we always go as a family," she argued._

_"Look, we won't be gone very long anyway, and there's lots of candy still waiting to be passed out," Jack told her.  He smiled.  "Think of it this way—the more candy you pass out now, the less __Sydney__'s going to be eating tomorrow."_

_This elicited a small smile from Laura.  "That's my girl," he encouraged._

_She sighed.  "Okay.  But just this year," she said.  "I don't know why my body had to pick today of all days to get sick."_

_He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss into her dark hair.  "Just focus on feeling better, okay?  Forget about the candy.  Go upstairs and lay down."  He held her tightly to his chest, marveling once again at how right she felt in his arms.  "You've been so busy with returning to work this year—"_

_"But we agreed that with Syd in school it was the right time for me to return to the university," she protested, tilting her head back so she could look at him._

_"I know, sweetie.  I'm just worried that you're trying to do too much.  If I ever lost you," he swallowed hard.  "I don't know what I'd do without you," he whispered._

_"Jack, it's a virus, that's it.  Don't start planning my funeral yet!" she swatted his arm.  "I'm not going anywhere, trust me."_

_"I believe you," he said as he leaned down and kissed her.  Things were starting to get out of hand when they were interrupted by a vision in pink._

_"Mommy, Daddy, I'm here!" __Sydney__ announced, wrinkling her nose.  "Stop the yucky stuff!" she ordered._

_Jack and Laura pulled apart as they looked down at their daughter.  "Hey, my princess is a princess!" Jack said as he ruffled her hair._

_"Daddy!  Don't mess up my hair!"  __Sydney__ commanded._

_Laura looked at Jack and winked.  "Feel free to mess up my hair anytime.  Maybe we can add a prince to the royal family," she said mischievously as she walked away._

_He looked longingly at her retreating form before returning his attention to his daughter.  "Well, Princess, are we ready to go?"_

_"Yes!" __Sydney__ screamed as she jumped up into his arms._

_"Say good-bye to your mommy," he prompted as he opened the front door._

_"'Bye, Mommy!" she called.  "I love you!"_

_"'Bye, __Sydney__!  Have fun with Daddy!" Laura called back._

_"See you later, Laura!" Jack yelled down the hallway, then closed the front door behind him._

_"All right, Princess, do we want to go to the left or the right?" he asked once they were to the end of their driveway._

_"Left," she said decisively, leading the way._

_Jack followed his daughter as she bounded up the stairs to the first house, still thinking about Laura's comment.  Maybe by next year there would__ be an addition to the royal family . . . ._

The doors opened, pulling him back to the present. He glanced back down the hall, half-expecting to see Sydney peering out her door.  When he didn't, he stepped into the car.

He looked over the panel, knowing he should press "6", but found himself pressing the button for the ground floor.  He needed a drink.

************

Sydney went out into the hall, closing the door quietly behind her.  Walking the few short feet to Vaughn's room, she tentatively knocked on the door.

Getting no response, she waited a minute before trying again.  "Vaughn?" she called out softly.

She thought she heard someone moving around inside.  "Vaughn," she called again.

************

Vaughn stood on the opposite side of the door, his hand gripping the door knob.  Leaning against the door, he heard Sydney call him a second time, but he just couldn't bring himself to open the door.  He listened to her sigh and then she quietly began talking.

"Vaughn, I have a feeling you can hear me.  I understand if you don't want to see me right now.  I don't blame you.  Believe me, I don't really want to see me right now either."

She took a breath and continued.  "I know that you don't blame me for what happened to your dad.  I know that because you told me and I believe you.  But you see, that's just it.  You are the _only one I know I can trust in my mixed-up excuse for a life.  The only one who I can believe.  And I'm just afraid that after what happened tonight..."_

He heard her take another deep breath.  "Well, I'm just afraid that...  Oh damn..."  He listened as she began sniffling.  "I'm sorry.  I'm standing out here like a blithering idiot and you're probably in bed asleep." 

He waited.  He was about to walk away from the door when he heard her softly crying.  "I just want you to know that I meant what I said on the phone the other day."

Vaughn was completely and utterly in shock.  When he recovered enough to move, he quickly opened the door and found no one there.  Reaching back inside, he grabbed his card key and let the door shut behind him.  He'd almost lost her too many times in the last couple of days.

He wasn't about to lose her now.

************

"Where are we going?" Will asked as Sydney slammed her door shut.

"Listen, Will, you've got to trust me, okay?"  She stopped, searching his eyes for a minute.

"Syd, you know I trust you," he said sincerely.

Irina smiled as they began walking.  "Good.  We have to leave London—there are some dangerous men chasing us," she began.  "There's a plane waiting to take you home, Will.  I'm going to take a different plane so that I can stop these men before they hurt more people."

"Sydney to the rescue," he said, pumping his fists in the air.

She grimaced.  "Something like that."  She quickened her pace as Heathrow loomed before them.  "Come on.  We've got planes to catch."

Twenty minutes later they were being escorted to the private jets.

"Wow," Will said.  "You seem to know everyone."

_Not everyone.  Just enough people in the right places to help me out, Irina thought to herself._

"Will, my friend here is going to help you get settled on this jet," she said as she faced him.  "It's a flight back to L.A."

"Home?" he squeaked.  "Really?"

"I promise, you're safe now.  Nothing bad will happen to you," she vowed.  _And this time, I hope I'm right._

"I wish you could come with me," he said wistfully.

"I'll be home soon.  Don't worry about me."  She gave him a tight smile.  _With any luck __Sydney__ will be on this jet too, heading home._

She handed him a small bottle.  "A sleeping pill," she said.  "I promise, that's all it is.  Just to help you rest on your long flight.  Promise me you will take this as soon as you get on the jet, okay?"

Will looked into Sydney's eyes.  _Funny—for a second it didn't look like __Sydney__.  Geez, I guess I do__ need sleep.  "I promise."  He closed the distance between them and hugged her tightly.  "I'll see you in L.A.," he said, then walked up the steps of the jet._

Irina allowed herself one last look before she resumed her walk.  _There it is, she thought to herself as she spotted a certain CIA-issue jet.  She chuckled to herself, picturing the look on his face when he realized who had managed to sneak onto the plane._

_The live entertainment on board this flight should far surpass any in-flight movie, she thought as she climbed the stairs._

************

Weiss knocked on Jack's door at 12:20 p.m.  He hadn't intended on sleeping as late as he had, so when Jack had called at 11:30, he felt like a kid who'd overslept on the first day of school.  

The door opened quickly and Weiss slipped quietly inside the room.  He watched as Jack paced impatiently while they waited for Sydney and Vaughn.__

Glancing over at the dresser, Weiss noticed the light flashing on the secure cell phone.  Looking at Jack, he asked, "How long has that been flashing?"

"What?"

"The phone."

Jack looked over and saw the red light blinking at him.  Picking up the phone, he retrieved the message and listened.

_"Jack, it's Devlin.  I need you to call me immediately.  The four of you need to leave __London__ now.  I think I know who our mole is, and if I'm right, we need all of you a little closer to home.  I'm going to try you again in a few hours, 12:30 your time.  But if you get this message before that—call me."_

Jack ended the call and turned towards Weiss.  "Nicholas?  Pack your bags.  Looks like we have to end our business trip early," he said.

Weiss stared at him, quickly understanding.  "Be back in five," he said and left the room.

Jack glanced at his watch as the phone in his hand began to ring.  _Punctual as always.  "Hello?"_

"Jack, it's Davenport.  Just wanted to give you the latest update."

"Good.  I was about to return Devlin's call."  Jack picked up his suitcase.

"Devlin's busy, so I'm calling for him—no need to disturb him," Davenport explained.  "Jack, Khasinau is dead."

"WHAT?!?" Jack exclaimed.

"He's dead."

"How?"

"That's not important right now.  What is important is that the four of you must leave London immediately.  Zoe's funeral is in two days, and we have reason to believe Sloane is going to bring you back from your vacation early.  Your plane is waiting for the two of you at Heathrow.  Leave as soon as possible."

"What about Sydney and Vaughn?"

"A second plane is waiting for them at Heathrow as well.  We're still tracking down Sark's whereabouts, but we need them in the air now for their own safety.  By the time they're crossing the Atlantic we should know where Sark is."

"They can't just stay here until Sark is located?" Jack asked, frustrated.

"I don't think you understand what's going on right now.  With Khasinau dead, every intelligence agency in the world is going to be swarming London—and they do _not need to see Sydney and Vaughn undercover.  They have to leave now."_

"Fine.  They'll be checked out of the hotel within the hour."

"Good."

************

Jack ended his call and immediately dialed Sydney's room.

"Hello?" a sleepy male voice said.

"Who is it?" Jack heard his daughter ask in the background.

"I would like to speak with Sydney," Jack said through gritted teeth.  He would deal with Vaughn later, but right now, they didn't have time.

"Yes?"

"Sydney, we need to leave now."

"I don't understand."

"It's simple.  You and Mr. Vaughn need to pack your bags now.  A car will pick you up out front and take you to Heathrow.  There is a plane waiting.  Mr. Weiss and I will be leaving from Heathrow."

"Where are we going?" Sydney questioned.

"Davenport wasn't sure.  He said that he would inform you pilot as soon as he knew your final destination."

"What about you and Weiss?"

"We're flying back to L.A."

"Has there been anything more about Will?"

"No. Sydney, you and Vaughn need to get packed and to the airport.  I'll see you when you get back."

"Okay.  'Bye, Dad."

Jack disconnected the call and threw the few things he'd unpacked back in his bag.  He was zipping it shut when there was a knock at the door.

He opened the door and found Weiss on the other side, bags in hand.  Letting him back in the room, Jack returned to his suitcase.  "Are you sure you've got everything?" he asked.

"I'm certain," Weiss answered.  "We may have a problem though."

"What?"

"I tried calling Mike and didn't get an answer in his room."

Jack cringed.  "Don't worry.  I spoke with him.  Both he and Sydney are aware of what is going on.  They're packing as we speak."

Weiss sighed in relief.  "That's good to know."

Jack pulled the suitcase off the bed and headed towards the door.  "Let's go."

************

Sark leaned back in his seat as the doctor tended his leg.  "I can't believe that bitch shot me."

"Well, just be glad it wasn't any higher," he replied dryly as he placed the last stitch in Sark's thigh.

"Believe me, I am."

The doctor prepared to place a medicated pad over the stitches.  "Okay, this might sting a bit."

Sark nearly jumped out of his seat.  "Bloody hell, man!  What did you put on that?"

"Sit down and stop complaining.  I don't need to lose my partner to a staph infection just because he thinks the antibiotic stings."

Sark sat back down.  Looking around, he glanced back at the man bandaging his leg.  "Do you hear something?"

The doctor remained quiet, listening.  "No, I don't..." he started.  And then he heard it.  "I don't believe this."

"Go find him."

The doctor stood up walking towards the back of the plane listening as the hideous singing became louder.  Opening the bathroom door, he found Will sitting next to the toilet, using the lid as a drum.

Will looked up when the door opened.  "Hey, Doc!  How ya doing?"

"Will, why don't you come with me.  I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable up front."

"Cool," he replied.  "Hey, thanks for calling me Will.  Everyone has been calling me Mr. Tippin.  I really hate that."

"It's no problem."  The doctor led him to a seat.  "Now why don't you just sit down there and make yourself comfortable."

"Sounds good.  Hey, you don't mind if I take a nap do you?  All this moving around has made me really tired.  The pill Sydney gave is helping some too."

_Pill?  What the hell had Irina given him? the doctor wondered.  "Go right ahead."_

He watched as Will nodded off almost immediately.  He turned back to Sark.  "Aren't we the lucky ones?"

"That depends on how you define lucky."

"I don't understand."

"If he stays like that for the remainder of the flight, we're lucky."

"And if not?" the doctor asked.

Sark smiled evilly.  "Then we gag him."

************

"Gentlemen, we're going to land in Boston to refuel," the pilot announced over the speakers.  "We should be on the ground for thirty minutes."

"Finally," Jack muttered to himself.  The flight from London had seemed endless as he spent his time worrying about Sydney and contemplating who the mole was.

The door to the plane had barely opened when Jack dialed a number on his cell phone.

"Ben?  Jack."

"Jack, thank goodness.  Are you in Boston?"  The worry in Devlin's voice was evident.

"We just landed.  Is there any word on Sark?  Where did Sydney and Vaughn travel to?"

"Jack . . . are you sitting down?"

"No."

"_Could you sit down?"_

"What is it, Ben?"

"I know who the mole is.  This is confidential—only tell Weiss."

"Fine.  Who is it?"

"Davenport."

"_Who?"_

"Davenport," Devlin repeated.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive.  I double-checked all the information myself.  It's him."

"How did you determine—"

"Jack, we've got a bigger problem."

"I seriously doubt it," Jack retorted.

"No one can find the flight plan for Sydney and Vaughn's flight out of Heathrow."

"No flight plan?  We don't know where they are?"

"No, Jack, we don't.  And there's one more thing."

Jack clutched the cell phone, suddenly realizing what Devlin was about to say.

"Davenport's missing.  We think he went to meet Sark—wherever that is."

************

Vaughn sat back, wondering how much longer it would be before they actually got in the air. They'd already been on the ground for the better part of an hour.  He was about to walk up to the cockpit when the one of the pilots came back.

"Sorry about the delay folks, but the mechanics found a problem with the landing gear.  They should have it repaired within the hour."

Sydney looked up at him.  "Thank you."  She looked back over at Vaughn.  "Why do you suppose Davenport chose Toronto?"

"I don't know, but I'll be very glad when we get back to L.A."

She nodded as she looked out the window.  She could see the skyline just across the Bay.  It was beautiful.  If only she had time to enjoy it.  

She turned away from the window.  She hoped the new intel that they had was accurate.  She just wanted Will back, in one piece, safe and sound.  

The pilot returned to the cabin.  "A couple of the mechanics are going to come in and check the hydraulic pressure gage to make sure it is functioning properly and then we should be able to get underway."

Vaughn got up from his seat and started walking around the cabin.  If he didn't see the inside of a plane for the next 10 years, it would be too soon.  

"Is it okay to come up Jim?" the mechanic asked.

"Yeah, come on."

Three men entered the plane.  Vaughn watched as they walked into the cockpit.  Turning back to Sydney, he was about to say something when one of the mechanics, the one with a slight limp, came back.

"Sorry for the delay, Mr. Vaughn.  Ms. Bristow."

Sydney gripped the arms of her seat as Vaughn moved closer to her.  "What are you doing here?"

Sark removed his cap, running a hand through his short blond hair.  "Making sure this plane is mechanically sound.  But you see, I don't think it is.  I think you might have to spend the night here."

"What do you want?" Vaughn asked angrily.

"I don't want anything at this point Mr. Vaughn.  But I do have something you want, Ms. Bristow, or may I call you Sydney."

"Go to hell," Sydney answered.

Sark cocked his head to the side.  "Ms. Bristow it is then."  He looked back towards the cockpit.  "Would you please bring our friend back here?"

Vaughn moved closer to Sydney, grabbing her hand.  She looked up at him briefly before glancing back at the men who were now walking towards them.

The men came to a halt beside Sark.  Sydney looked from once face to the next.  When her gaze landed on the third man, she couldn't believe her eyes.  "Will?"

She waited until the older looking man had carefully placed Will in one of the seats before she rushed over to him.  "Oh my God, Will?"  She tapped his face lightly as the man moved beside her.

She looked up at him.  "What have you done to him?"

Sark replied from behind them, "He's been having problems sleeping.  So we gave him a pill to take care of that."

Tears started streaming down Sydney's face as she looked back at Will.  Then she felt the man beside her pick up her hand.  She looked up at him.  "What are you doing?"

Vaughn tried to go to Sydney, but the gun Sark now had trained on him held him in place.

"I think this belongs to you," he answered, speaking for the first time.  Sydney looked back at him and then down at her hand.  What she saw there shocked her into silence. 

Slowly she stood, backing away from him.  "No...  No...  No..."  She kept repeating it, shaking her head, continuing to back away from him until her back was against the side of the plane.

Vaughn started to move towards her only to be stopped by the sound of a gun being cocked.  "Now, now, Mr. Vaughn.  I don't want to have to shoot you, but if I have to, I will."

"It's ok," the other man told Sark.  "Mr. Vaughn here just doesn't understand that I would never do _anything to hurt Sydney."_

Vaughn looked back over at Sydney, who was clutching her left hand.  And then he saw it.  _How the hell did they get __Sydney__'s engagement ring?_

"Who are you?" Vaughn demanded.

"You know, I feel as if I know you so well, I keep forgetting we've never met.  Allow me to introduce myself."  He stepped forward, pulling a latex mask from his face.  He stood directly in front of Vaughn, holding out his hand.  "My name is Danny Hecht."

**THE END . . . FOR NOW**


End file.
